Tangled Visions
by Banzai Ryu
Summary: It started when one woman lost everything that she held dear. Now, as she searches for answers and revenge, her road will intertwine with three others. These four desperate people will work together to survive, or die trying .
1. Chapter One

_Tangled Visions_, Part One

                                                Chapter One

_"Desperation does funny thin's to yer head." _

                                                                        -Mouse 

            Mouse moved quietly in the shadows, trying hard to avoid being seen.  He wore nothing fancy or flashy- partly because his job required him not to, and partly because he simply couldn't afford most of life's pleasures.  Bigger people surrounded him, talking loudly and laughing at each other's stupid jokes.  The tavern was brightly lit, and Mouse had trouble sticking to the shadows.  Fortunately for him, though, most of the people in the room were too drunk to notice the dark haired halfling slinking around.

            Mouse preferred taverns to almost every other place in the world.  When he wasn't on business, it was easy to get an affordable meal and a couple of fine folk worth losing an evening with.  When he was on business, Mouse's feelings towards taverns didn't change.  Mostly, he found, people weren't surprised to wake up one morning with their heads in their vomit and their purses half empty.  Most people assumed they had spent it on drink.  

And that was exactly the kind of thinking that kept Mouse in business. 

The Blue Dog Inn was full tonight, because the harvest had just come in last week and there was no more work to be done in the fields until the first snowfall.  Everyone was celebrating.  Mouse only half listened to the cheering and the toasting going on around him.  His eyes, black like charcoal and quick like a hawk's followed the people around him, tracking their clumsy movements.  Mouse sneered slightly.  Although he was fascinated with them, Mouse had never particularly approved of the way Big Folk moved.  Although these were obviously under the influence of strong wine and beer, they were still loud and clunking, like oxen pulling a plow.  

But Mouse wasn't just watching the men's movements.  

He was watching their purses.

By now, Mouse could tell that the humans were sufficiently drunk, and _quite_ unaware of their surroundings.

 Now all he had to do was choose a target.

Most men in the Dog were farmers, or worked on the farms.  They were all poor, hardy folk living off the land and spending their few coins on drink and dance.  Now these same hardy folk were clustered around rough-hewn tables and benches, and especially around the bar.  They joked about the hard work they did and how nice their little town was.

            As far as Mouse was concerned, Jubliant was nice enough from its looks, but once someone was inside the walls they could see the grease, dirt and disease that ruled the lives of the workers inside. 

            To Mouse, all that meant one thing- the men here were poor.  And, Mouse knew, if the men here were poor, than he was too.

            And that was _not a good thing.  _

            Mouse surveyed the area once again.  The Dog was a seedy little inn right at the border of town, made of wood and mud with torches lining the walls on the inside.  For such a cheap little place though, it was surprisingly well run.  The inside was clean and bright, and the ugly brown benches inside were sanded down to keep them from splintering.  It was one of the halfling's favorite inns.  

            Mouse knew most of the people in the room, not by name but from looks.  He had a good memory that way.  Mouse knew that, by now, most people's purses would be empty, and those that _were sticking around were there in the hopes that the bartender might let them have a free round or two.  Mouse cursed himself under his breath for arriving there so late.  Had he been half an hour earlier, the pouches would still be full and he would be a rich halfling. _

            Mouse changed positions again, moving like a swift black shadow.  He cut across the room, changing from the right side to the left, still facing the bar, which was located at the very back.  His eyes roved over the crowd, searching for a likely victim.  Most people were clustered together around the bar, applauding something.  Others sat at the tables towards the back, laughing over mugs of ale about as tall as Mouse himself was.  Mouse knew better than to rob somebody in crowds like these.  There were too many eyes waiting to catch him in the act, and too many hands ready to snatch him up.  With a sigh, Mouse turned away and tried to accept the possibility that, perhaps, tonight's hunt was fruitless.  

            And then his black eyes found her.

            She was sitting at a table near the door, alone.  A single candle was on the table, illuminating the woman's features.   She was sitting right in front of Mouse, and he quickly summed her up.

            Like most people in Jubliant, she was human.  That much was obvious.  But she was unlike any human Mouse had ever seen before.  She wore a pair of men's breeches and tall leather boots, which seemed fancy despite the fact that they were caked in mud.  She seemed to wear no shirt, except for a piece of chain mail draped over her breasts.  It had only one sleeve.  The other looked ripped off.  The skin on her bare arm and stomach was deeply tanned, though Mouse thought that the yellow color may have been from the flickering candle.  Bits of other armor- a pair of leather covers over her thighs, a cuff on her left forearm- decorated her muscular form, protecting some of the more vulnerable body parts.  

            Mouse straightened himself.  Compared to this human's poorly cleaned armor, his black leather didn't look nearly so worn.  

            The woman had long, dark brown tresses, which were separated into hundreds over tiny braids that hung over the sides of her face, disguising her features.  But that wasn't even the beginning of it.  Strapped to each of her boots was a long, sharp edged dagger, which Mouse knew wasn't just for show.  He flinched though, when he saw what was strapped to her back.  

               Slung from a long dark leather strap and fitting comfortably into its sheath was a giant sword.  It was almost twice the size of Mouse himself, and so big that the woman had to carry it across her back, instead of against her side.  She was sitting, relaxed, in her chair, with her long human legs stretched out in front of her.

            Mouse didn't recognize this human, and he didn't exactly like her appearance.  And, it seemed, the bartender didn't either.  He kept glancing over at the woman, and looking away quickly before she could catch his gaze.  A large mug of ale sat on the bench in front of her, which the woman seemed to be looking at, though her gaze was distant and unfocused.  Suddenly, she sat up straight and snapped her fingers, signaling to the bartender.  She reached into a bulging purse on her belt and withdrew a shiny gold coin.  The bartender came over warily, like a dog that knows he had done something wrong.  

            Mouse's eyes narrowed slightly when he saw the woman's belt pouch.  Immediately, conflicting thoughts began to fill his head.  Obviously, this woman had a good deal of money in there if she could so easily produce such a coin as that one.  If there was ever someone to steal from, _she would be it.  After all, would she truly miss a couple of silvers?  _

            But Mouse paused when he looked again at the gigantic sword across her back.  He was never one to take unnecessary risks, and robbing a swordswoman twice his size was not an ideal plan.  Especially in such a large crowd.  

            Mouse paused again, uncertain.  Then, steeling his nerve, he slunk quietly up behind the woman's chair.  

            Meanwhile, the bartender was picking his way carefully through his other customers, taking his time getting over to the fearsome newcomer.  When he finally got close enough, the woman turned her head slightly, and said in a low, harsh voice, 

            "Fill it up again, Inn-master." 

            He nodded, and quickly poured some foamy ale into her cup from his pitcher.  His hands shook.

            Mouse crept up from behind, and crouched.  Had his armor not been so worn in, it might have creaked or squeaked, but as it was, it made no sound.  Mouse deftly undid the full pouch on the woman's belt, trying _very_ hard not to hit the short sword that hung close by next to it.  As the pouch loosened, Mouse put a hand under it so that when the straps of leather came undone, the bag wouldn't make a sound as it fell.  With the last knot undone, Mouse straightened ever so slightly, ready to turn and slink off while the woman was still busy with the bartender.

            There was a horrible sound of wood scraping on wood, and a chinkling sound very much like shattering glass.  A vast dark blur filled Mouse's vision, and he stumbled backwards.  He would have fallen right over onto his backside, except that something grabbed his wrist and pulled him straight off the ground.

            Mouse thrashed desperately, but the woman's grip was like a steel manacle.  It didn't loosen, and Mouse stopped thrashing quickly.  The woman had grabbed the hand that still held her pouch.

            Mouse swallowed, and looked into the woman's now visible face.  She had stormy blue eyes framed with long dark lashes, and a full, exceptionally red mouth.  But Mouse didn't really see any of that- his eyes were focused on the livid black scar on the woman's face.

            The scar was long, and it looked as if something like a knife had been dragged across her face.  It started on the left side of her forehead, right at the base of her dark hair.  It cut diagonally across her face, running over her fortunately still functional right eye and stopping over her right cheekbone.  Although the wound had healed over and there was basically no indentation left behind, Mouse could tell that the wound had been a deep one.  

            He swallowed, and looked around him.  The bartender had been scared out of his wits by the woman's sharp movements, and had dropped his pitcher in fright.  He was too intent on the woman and halfling to pick up the shards of clay on the floor, or stop the spreading liquid.  Some other men in the Inn were looking over at the spectacle, wondering what on Pelor's Oerth the woman and halfling were up to.

            The woman was still sitting, twisting backwards in her chair, and her deep blue eyes gave Mouse a steely, hardened look.  Mouse swallowed again, and tried to speak, but the woman did so before he could.

            "And just what," the woman asked, "would a halfling be doing with my pouch in his hands?" The woman's voice was harsh and raspy, and sounded as if it hadn't been used in some time.  

            Mouse opened his mouth, and a small squeak came out.  He couldn't take his eyes off the scar.

            "Erm," he said quickly, mind racing, "Please, misses!  I warsn't doin' anythin', I promise!  I jest, erm…  Well, yeh see, yer, uh, yer bag hed fallen off yer belt when yeh reached in to get yer money out, and I was jest gonna pick it ep for yeh and hand eht back over.  Y'know, like, uh, like good folks do fer each other."  Mouse swallowed again, and twisted slightly in the woman's grasp.  No such luck.  She held his wrist firmly in her hand, and didn't seem to be considering letting it go of it.

            The woman raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised by the halfling's Northern accent. 

            "You seem to have been paying close attention to my money, halfling.  Would you mind telling me why?" she said icily.

            Mouse gulped and wiped a little sweat off his brow.  Lying was not his strongest skill.  

            "Ehm, well, eh… Well, When yer as shert as I em, misses, yeh can't 'elp but notice somethin' fallin' off a person's belt, y'see.  Ehts really all a matter of perspective." 

            To Mouse's surprise, the smallest hint of a smile formed on the woman's perfect lips.  Then her hawk-like eyes narrowed, and she stood up quickly, still holding the halfling off the ground by his wrist.  Mouse yelped in surprise and dropped the money pouch.  The woman caught it deftly in her free hand.

            "Thank you, Master Innkeeper," she said without turning to look at the bartender, "But I think I will cut short my visit here.  The halfling and I have some… business to attend to."

            The woman, still holding Mouse off the ground by his arm, walked quickly out of the inn without waiting for the bartender's answer.

            The woman somehow managed to get out the door without loosening her grip on her captive, and walked out into the cool night air.  It was a chilly night, Mouse realized, for summer.  The seasons were turning again, and soon fall would be upon the villagers.  That would mean more work, and lots of good cider and fresh bread to go around.

            If Mouse ever lived to see that.  

            The woman walked some ways away from the bar; her strides fast and long.  Mouse looked around desperately for some sort of escape, but found none in the narrow city streets.  The woman's leather boots made almost no sound on the cobbled ground, and the only real noise was the sound of Mouse's pounding heart, which was something only he could hear.

            Suddenly, the woman stopped, and dropped Mouse gracelessly to the ground.  The halfling yelped as he landed on his behind.

            "Don't try to run, little one, or you'll soon find out just how good I am with this sword."  As she spoke, there was a swishing sound, and the woman drew the finely crafted steel out of its sheath.  It glittered menacingly in the moonlight.

            Mouse stood up awkwardly, and rubbed his backside.

            The two stood there for a couple of seconds, the human pointing her sword at the halfling, who was standing stock still in the street.  

            "Ehm, I'm not exactly suggestin' yeh do this," Mouse said finally, "Beht are yeh plannin' the kill meh or not?"

            The woman's eyes gleamed a little in the moonlight, and she smiled wryly.

            "Actually," she said in her low, gruff voice, "I'll leave that decision to you.  Indeed, I have a proposition for some with your… talents." She let the sentence hang.

            Mouse's eyes narrowed, and he backed away slightly.

            "I don't know what you mean," he snapped.  He reached for his belt, where a small dagger hung. 

            The woman's smile widened.

            "Let me put this clearly to you, halfling."  She dropped her sword so that the too sharp point rested on the ground. "I need a thief.  I need someone who can open locks, disable devices, and," she paused, and her eyes flicked to the money pouch Mouse still held in his hand, "I need someone who can pickpockets.  I can pay for your services in food, drink, shelter, and, when I have it, money.  From the looks of it, you could use a little bit of all of those."  Her eyes traveled over Mouse's beaten leather suit and dirty hair, and rested on his almost emaciated body.

            Mouse looked down at himself.  The straps and buckles that held his armor together were tightened as much as they could be, but the armor was still loose on his form.  Mouse was thin, he knew, but there had been no way of getting around that.  There was simply no way that a freelancing thief could afford to feed himself properly in a town where both the victims of his robberies and the Thieves' Guilds he refused to join were out to get him.  He had to move fast, and always be on the alert.  If he had to leave and area, then that's what he did.  He couldn't be picky about where he stayed anymore.  

            "And jest whet would I be doin' fer yeh?"

            The woman gave the halfling a condescending look.

            "Exactly what I told you I needed you to do.  If you can do all those things, of course."

            Mouse folded his arms over his chest and hissed angrily under his breath.

            "Ehv course I can do all those things!  Whaddya take me fer, a stupid Orc?  I wouldn'da survived fer half as long as I 'ave if I couldn't do those thin's yeh said!  This ain't a nice city, y'know!   Ehve watched people get murdered in the streets loads o' times for bein' careless!  Yeh can't be a single thief 'round here anymore without having _some skill!  Otherwise the Guilds wouldda caught up with me by now an' put me outta my misery!  Thin's ta do!  Sure!  O' course I can do them!  In Pelor's name!"  Mouse closed his mouth, and looked angrily at the human.  For a second, an amused smile covered the woman's face, but it disappeared when she began to speak again._

            "Fine," she said, "I'm glad you have the required skills.  That makes things easier.  Now, what could I do to entice you to work for me, halfling?" she said hoarsely.

            "Fer one thin', yeh could stop callin' me that. Ehv gotta name, y'know."

            The woman raised an eyebrow.

            "Do you now?" she said with fake sincerity.

            "Yeh, I do.  It's Milo.  Milo Tosscobble.  Though most people call me Mouse."

            "All right then, _Mouse," the woman said, her voice serious, "answer the question.  What can I offer you that you'll work for?"_

            Mouse readjusted himself, planting his feet more firmly on the ground.  He took his hand off his dagger and folded his arms.

            "Well, pay's good.  Lots of it.  That's better.  Also, yeh said before tha' you could offer food an' shelter.  I'd take that.  But I wanna know what this damned job is."

            Something flashed in the woman's eyes.  Then, a sad, almost haunted look came over her face.

            "I've been chasing Raiders for four years now, Mouse," she said, her voice steady, "and I've tracked them down to a large temple ruin on the outer edge of the Plains.  I know I have the strength to take them, but traps and other devices protect the ruins.  I need someone with knowledge about such things to get me into the area, and then I can take them" A fierce gleam rose in the woman's eyes.  "That would be your job.  Get me in, and I'll pay you.  Get me out, and I'll double that.  It's a long trip to the ruins, so I'll be guiding you and keeping you safe.  I'll feed you and keep you sheltered during that time.  After the job, we part ways.  I probably won't be coming back."

            Mouse was silent, his face pale.

            Of course.  The perfect job had fallen right into his lap, and the only catch is that he going out to hunt Raiders.  _Raiders._  The scourge of every society and the fear that most people wouldn't even speak of.  Raiders were the outcasts of communities that banded together and ransacked villages and caravans for loot.  They were a versatile bunch, because they were made up of so many different races with so many different skills.  Their numbers had been growing lately, and their bravery grew along with it.  They lived on the Plains, the only place in the world that was big enough and dangerous enough to hold such a group.

            And, of course, Mouse was going to hunt them down.

            For pay.

            He groaned.

            "I understand that you think this is very dangerous," the woman said, "And you're probably right.  You don't have to take the job.  I won't make you.  But consider this- everyone in that bar saw you attempt to rob me, and I seriously doubt that you will want to stick around long enough to find out how the people of this city treat thieves.  On the other hand, if you stick with me, I can lead you out of this town and safely away into some other village, where you'd be free to start off fresh.  And rich.  That is, if you survive."

            "Yeh," Mouse said, shaking his head, "All this looks great teh me.  I can stay here an' get meself strung up and quartered, or I can go with yeh and get meself butchered all the same.  Verreh appealin' aptions."

            To his surprise, the woman laughed.

            Mouse sighed, and looked at the night sky.  It was dark up there, with the twinkling of stars just visible over the roofs of the houses above him.  They seemed oblivious to his problems down here.  He knew he couldn't take this job.  He just couldn't.  He was no fighter or woods-person- he didn't know how to protect himself out there.  Of course he had learned to take care of himself in the world, but going out to hunt armed and dangerous men seemed like suicide.  Mouse would prefer to leave the killing and hunting to the armies in the world.  Not to two beaten down people armed with a dagger and a sword.  This wasn't something Mouse would ever want to do.  His mind told him that he shouldn't, _couldn't_ do this.  He couldn't take this woman's job.  He couldn't do it if he was even the least bit sane.  And being level-headed was something Mouse prided himself on.

            But desperation could do funny things to you're head.   

            "If yeh's are still offerin', I think I'll take yeh up on yer deal." Mouse said, running his hand through his long and shaggy hair.

            The woman smiled.

            "Still offering," she said.

            "Y'know," Mouse said, glaring at her, "It's all yer fault.  I wouldn't be in thes whole mess if yeh 'and't waltzed up inta town and sat down with a full purse like tha'.  I'd still be sitting in there, biding meh time, waitin' fer someone stupid to drep a coin or somethin'."

            "I know.  But if I hadn't come through, you of probably starved to death sooner or later, _or_ be strung up and quartered by now."

            Mouse gave the woman an acidic look.

            "I resent that.  Ehv been through worser scrapes than this without yer help, misses, erm…" he trailed off, and looked at the human expectantly.  She smiled.

             "Brigit," she offered, "Brigit Stoneheart."

            Mouse was about to say that it that was a fairly odd name for a human, considering it was dwarven and all, when he thought better of it.  Humans were an odd race, and he knew that they sometimes named their children strange things.  

            It must have come from being so tall.

            "By the way," Brigit said suddenly, "I need to ask you something.  Do you have any family, or anything?  I wouldn't ask you to work for me if you had family."

            Something strange flickered in Brigit's eyes.  For a second, her face seemed haunted.  Then it passed.

            "Nah," Mouse waved a hand dismissively.  "Nothin, er, nobody.  I never much wanted a family.  Never had use fer one, really."

            "Ah," said Brigit.  "And another thing.  Can you…Are you at all good with any weapons?  It doesn't much matter, but I need to know."

            Mouse pulled his dagger out of his belt.

            "I'm good with this thin'," he said.  Then he paused, and walked up to the door of the Blue Dog Inn.  Out of a burlap sack in front, he pulled a hidden crossbow, just right for his size.

            "Yer not allowed to bring weapons inta the bar," he said, "So I hid this outside.  I'm really good with this."

            Brigit smiled, her face lit up by the moonlight.  She sheathed her sword.

            "So that's why the bartender didn't seem too taken with me," she said.

            "Oh yeh," Mouse said casually.  He glanced at her scar again. "That an' other thin's, I suspect."

Mouse suddenly thought about where his gaze was, and looked away quickly.  Brigit's hand passed gently over the old wound.

"I'm not insulted, Mouse," she said quietly, "In fact, I cherish this thing.  It is a constant reminder of why I hate Raiders.  That," she said, mimicking Mouse's accent, "And other thin's."

            Mouse smiled, despite himself. 

 "And now," Brigit said loudly, "I think we should get any belongings you might want to take with you.  It's a long trip, as I said, and I don't think you'll be coming back to Jubliant after all this is over."

            Mouse looked up from his crossbow sharply.  

            "I 'ope yer not implyen that Iem goin' te get meself killed out there."

            "Oh no, I'm not," Brigit said quickly, "Not really, at least.  Though it is a possibility.  But they do know you're a thief here, don't they?" 

            "Oh, yeh."  Mouse said.  "And tha's yer fault, yknow."

            "Yes, I know," Brigit said, rolling her eyes.  "Come on, halfling, let's get to your hole in the ground.  Or wherever it is you live.  I think the barman will be out soon to look for us.  I don't think I paid." Brigit said thoughtfully.

            The two walked down the street, weapons slung over their backs.

            "Hey, human," Mouse snapped, "I told you not t'call me _tha__'_."   


	2. Chapter Two

            _Tangled Visions_, Part One

                                                                        Chapter Two

            _"One is never alone when the heart is filled with anger."_

-Brigit Stoneheart

            Brigit looked up, putting a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun's glare.  It was almost noon now, on her second day of traveling out of Jubliant.  Now, as she scanned the horizon in front of her, Brigit felt sure that they could reach this small mountain crest in front of them by lunchtime.

            If only her companion could keep up.

            Bracing one foot against a rock outcropping, Brigit turned sideways to stare down the hillside again.  Twenty feet or so below her was a small black figure, huffing up the mountainside.  Brigit rolled her shoulders, readjusting the weight of the giant sword on her back.  She let out an inaudible sigh.

            "Are you all right, Mouse?" she called down.  Her voice echoed off the mountain walls.

            The black figure stopped, and Brigit saw the halfling turn to look up at her.

            "I'm fine, Mountain Runner!  Jest don' werry about yer little friend down 'ere!  'E's 'avin' the time of 'is life runnin' up mountains an' 'ills all day!  Don' fret about _me_, human!"

"Mountain Runner" was the name Mouse had given to Brigit, who so easily ran ahead and jumped easily over the almost impassable regions of the rocky peaks.  Mouse did not appreciate the woman's obvious gift of speed.

            "Would you like me to wait for you here, halfling?" Brigit called back.  She rolled her shoulders again.

            "You're sech a delight to travel with, human!  So courteous and considerate!" Mouse yelled back sarcastically.

            Brigit rolled her eyes and sat down heavily on the outcropping.  She studied her companion below.

            Mouse was a halfling, but tall for his species.  He stood almost 3'3'', with long dark hair pulled back tightly along his long skull.  He wore a full body suit of black leather armor, which, Brigit had found out, he never took off.  And that explained its broken in look.  And his.  Mouse's crossbow was slung across his back right now, along with a miniature backpack and bedroll.  As the halfling got closer, Brigit could clearly make out the halfling's thin frame and sharp facial features.  He had a long, straight nose, thin lips, and coal black eyes that glared angrily out at her from under finely arched eyebrows.  Had Mouse been a human, Brigit thought, she might have found him attractive.  As it was, he was a halfling and her traveling companion, so she saw him only as an annoying and somewhat amusing pest. 

            And only _somewhat_ amusing. 

            Mouse reached Brigit finally, panting.  He gave the sitting, relaxed human a baleful look.

            "What?" Brigit said innocently.

            Mouse's eyes grew darker.

            "It's…all…you're…fault." was all the halfling managed to puff out.

            Brigit stood up, and brushed dirt off her muddy, stained clothing.

            "If we press on," she said curtly, "we can make it to the top of this mountain by noontime.  Then we can stop for an hour or two."

            Brigit looked at her companion for approval.

            Mouse gave her an angry look, and then said finally, "Fine.  Ehll 'ead."

            With that, the halfling stomped up the mountain.

            Brigit stood behind him for a couple of seconds, a little confused by the halfling.  Although he was tired, sweaty and hot, he continued to work, as if some sort of desperate need drove him onwards.  She watched him walk steadily up the mountain, his nimbleness, a halfling trait, helping him to move silently and gracefully up the mountainside.  Brigit sighed, a little envious of the ease with which Mouse avoided loose stones and slippery moss.  Such dexterity would truly have helped _her_ get through tough spots. 

            The two continued to trek up the mountain's face, with Brigit slowing her pace dramatically to match speeds with the halfling.  Mouse seemed to appreciate that, even if he didn't say anything.  

            Brigit, as usual, had predicted when they would reach the crest of the mountain.  Mouse had learned that Brigit had a sixth sense about time, and knew how long tasks would take and could always figure out the time by simply looking at the sun.  They stopped together, and sat down on the ridge.  Brigit chose a place with some natural cover- a small nook in the rock face protected from most sides by jutting rocks.  The two sat down for a minute, panting and collecting themselves.  Brigit reached into her bag, and withdrew her waterskin.  After taking a swig off it, she handed it to Mouse, who gratefully accepted it.  

            Suddenly, Brigit stood up, and began to walk off down the mountain the way they had come up.  Mouse's eyes widened.

            "Ay!  Where d'y'think yer goin'?" he yelled down to her.

            Brigit turned, and stared back up at him.

            "You want lunch, don't you?"  

She turned and disappeared out of sight. 

            Mouse shook is head, and lay down to take a nap.

            * * * *

            Mouse opened his eyes as drool began to leak out of the corner of his mouth.  A thick, meaty smell, like steak or chicken being roasted filled the air.  He sat up slowly, and yawned.  He gasped in surprise at what he saw in front of him.

            Brigit was crouching in front of a small wood fire, a large male deer lying next to her.  A crossbow bolt stuck stiffly out of its neck.  The deer had been cleaned and sliced, and two large pieces of venison sat roasting on a grill over the fire. 

            "I hope you don't mind that I borrowed your crossbow," Brigit said to Mouse without turning to look at him.  Her attention was fixed on the steaks.  "I think the quarrel is still usable, if you can get it out."  She gestured to the buck. 

            Mouse blinked in confusion.  He had missed most of what Brigit had just said.

            "Wait a second," he said slowly, his eyes on her, "yer tellin' me that you went out an' shotta deer on the mountainside?  An' now yer cookin' it?"  He paused, uncertain.  "Where'd yeh learn t'kill deer?"

            Brigit looked up from her fire.  A stony, confused expression filled her face.

            "I've hunted and killed armed men before, Mouse.  A deer is nothing."

            Mouse didn't say anything.  Somehow, he hadn't quite believed that the fierce, wild looking woman had actually killed before in her life.  Now, seeing that dead deer next to her made Mouse extremely uncomfortable.

            Mouse did not like uncomfortable silences.  They always made him feel like he was being watched.  And that was a feeling Mouse hated.  He made an attempt at conversation with Brigit.

            "Es et far frem the next town?"

            Brigit shook her head.

            "No, it's not.  It will take us some time to get there, I think."

            Mouse nodded, and coughed a bit.

            "Yes.  Erm…So…Deh yeh travel like this a lot, then?"

Brigit turned sharply, and gave the halfling a totally unreadable and very disconcerting look. 

"Yes.  I have traveled a very long time."  Brigit looked off from the meat and away from Mouse even.  Her eyes traveled upwards, towards the stars.  

"I have been here…" she paused, and her eyes glazed over, as if memories had swallowed her up for a second and her sentence had dropped out of existence.  Her face went slack, as if something in her had died.  Then she snapped back to the present.  Brigit looked down quickly at the meat, and poked it for good measure.  "I have been here for four years.  Out here.  Yes…" her eyes misted over, and then she turned away so that Mouse couldn't see her face.

"Really?" Mouse said, unable to contain his growing curiosity, "Four years?  All by yerself?"  He sat up straighter in his bedroll.

"I do not think I have ever truly been alone, halfling," Brigit said, her voice gruff and her face hidden, "My head hears the voices of my past and my heart speaks back to them.  I have never been alone."

Mouse had no response to such a comment, and looked away from Brigit.

            They were quiet for some time, both listening to the fire crackle and the meat sizzle.  Other animal noises filled their ears- an owl hooted in the distance, and Mouse even thought he heard the distant sound of a wildcat scream.  Mouse looked up at the sky, and watched the sun sink lower over the protective crest of rocks in front of him.  Obviously, Brigit had decided to spend more than an hour or two on this mountain peak.  Mouse had a strange vague feeling that, perhaps, Brigit had decided to stay here so that the halfling could sleep longer, but he brushed the thought aside.  It seemed impossible that this human was capable of being amiable and nice.  Curious about the sun's dipping, Mouse stood up and climbed up onto the little ledge.

            What he saw astounded him.

Brigit looked up when she heard Mouse gasp.  He was crouched on the outcropping in front of them, and his mouth was hanging open.  Brigit stood up to see what he was looking at.

Spreading out in front of them, stretching for miles in all directions was grassland.  Rolling, sweeping hills, covered in long, golden brown grass filled the pair's visions, like a vast and beautiful type of lumpy quilt.  Over one hill, a herd of long antlered deer grazed, their heads bobbing up and down, routinely checking for predators.  The sun, sinking fast now, slowly dipped behind a mountain in the way far off distance, and suddenly the grass, deer, and sky turned a deep, blood red color washed over with pink.  Mouse and Brigit shielded their eyes from the glare.  A wind blew, and the grass shimmered golden and red.  The area was both beautiful and awe-inspiring.  But somehow, Mouse felt a deep sense of foreboding grow in his stomach as he studied the land.

"What es thes place?" Mouse wondered out loud.

Brigit sighed, and turned away from the landscape.

"That's… the Plains." She said quietly.  She picked up a stick and poked her fire with it.  "It's where the Raiders are."

"Kinda makes yeh jealous, don' it?" Mouse said, still staring at the land.  "I mean, it's so damn pretty.  And sem people's jest get _t'live_ there."

Brigit poked the fire harder.

"It's where the Raiders are."

"I know," Mouse said, turning to her, "Yeh told meh that."

Brigit didn't say anything.

Mouse climbed down off the ledge.  He walked over to Brigit, and sat down next to her.  He sniffed the air.

"I think the meat's dehn now."

Brigit grabbed two plates out of Mouse's bag and slapped a piece of venison on each.  The two waited a bit for them to cool, then ate it with their fingers.

Mouse gobbled his down in a flash.  He ate ravenously, and after all the meat was gone licked his fingers and plate clean.  Brigit, watching him, handed over her half eaten slab.  Mouse almost swallowed it whole.

After he was done, he burped loudly and faced Brigit.

"If yeh cook that good all the time," he said, patting his now slightly bulging stomach, "I mey jest stick around longer."  With that, he unrolled his bedroll and lay down to sleep.  He was out in less than a minute.

Brigit sighed, and shook her head.  She unrolled her own bedroll, but did not lie down.  Instead, she stood up, and pulled herself up onto the ledge of rock.  For a while, she watched the now moonlit Plains, the long grass blowing gently in the night breeze.  The herd of deer was still there.  Brigit knew that they would stay there all night, grazing until that one area was totally eaten away, or until they were disturbed.  She had seen herds like this many times, and always watched over them, like a protective buck.  

Brigit's mind was blank for a long time.  She sat, staring out at the distant ruins in the southeast.  She drew her knees up against her body, and wrapped her arms around her legs.  She sat that way for a long time, pondering without actually thinking about anything.

Finally, when she knew the sun would rise in another four hours, Brigit uncurled herself, and stood up.  As soon as she did, a long, cold shiver that had nothing to do with the wind or weather went down her spine.  A single sentence went through her mind, filling her with indescribable emotions.

_It's where the Raiders are._

* * * *

Mouse woke first.  He always did.  He had been an early riser his entire life, and he didn't intend to change his ways over a good bit of venison.  He stretched, and yawned quietly, not wanting to wake Brigit.  He sat quietly behind the rock outcropping, and slowly set to work doing the early morning things that needed to be done.  He started up the fire from the coals, and began to heat some water.  He rolled his bedroll up, and began to pack his stuff up.  As he packed, his eyes fell on Brigit, who slept peacefully next to him.  For a second, Mouse wondered at how easily she slept.  Had it been him lying there, he would have worried most of the night that his newly employed rogue might decide that this little adventure wasn't worth it, and kill the his employer in his sleep.  For a second, Mouse wondered why he wasn't doing that now. 

 He reached for his dagger.

Then, a new thought came into his head.  Brigit had been his guide the entire time they were out here.  If she died, Mouse knew it was highly unlikely that he would be able to get back to Jubliant.  Or any other town, for that matter.  One look over those vast, sweeping valleys had showed him just how much land there was out there to get lost in.  Mouse didn't like the idea of fighting Raiders, but he liked the idea of getting lost out there _with them_ even less.  So for now, he would do his best to keep Brigit alive, so that she could get him safely inside a town before he ran off.

Mouse took his hand off his dagger.

Yawning, Mouse set to work putting more deer meat over the flames.  The meat, though cold and not quite well preserved was probably still good for another day or two.  And Mouse was very hungry right now, so he intended to get as much off the deer as possible.

            The flames licked at the meat on the grill, making comforting noises as the grease on the venison heated up.  The smell began to rise up through the air.  Mouse savored it.

            Deciding there was nothing left to do until Brigit woke up, Mouse settled on taking a look around the area again.  Moving quietly past his sleeping companion, Mouse grabbed hold onto the ridge, and pulled himself up without a sound.  

            The sun was just rising over the tops of  the mountains behind him, and the early morning rays lit up the fair lands in front of Mouse pleasantly.  The grass, a sweet honey color, blew gently in the breezes, and Mouse felt a sense of peace wash over him.  He looked over the Plains once more.

            The deer were gone.

            Mouse heard a hissing sound, and something chinked off the rock next to him.  An arrow, long, black and crude looking, clattered down the mountainside.  Mouse jumped back and yelled in fright.  Twenty feet below him, on a little ridge stood two Raiders, each holding small bows.  One was reloading, and the other was just about to fire.

            Mouse ducked, and the arrow that surely would have impaled him flew by over his head. Mouse jumped off the ledge as quickly as he could, landed gracefully, and ran over to shake Brigit out of her sleep.

            She wasn't in her bedroll.  

            Mouse heard a metallic clang above him, and looked up.  Standing off to one side slightly higher than Mouse was Brigit, and a new friend.  The Raider was holding some type of scimitar, and swung it, two handed, at Brigit's exposed middle.

            With a grace beyond anything humanly possible, Brigit dodged the blow and cut in with her own.  Her sword sliced through the man's armor, and buried itself deep in his side.  Blood seeped out of the ghastly wound, which had almost cut the man in half. It blossomed over the man's black robes, and when Brigit withdrew her sword with a mighty yank, he fell to the ground as dead as a stone.

            Chink!  Chink!

            Two arrows hit the rocks next to Brigit, one missing her by less than an inch.  The human jumped down next to Mouse, her wicked sword still held out in front of her.  The two had cover under the huge, jutting stones, and for now the arrows from below stopped flying.

            Brigit turned to Mouse with a wry smile on her face.

            "I think it's time to see how good you are with that crossbow." 

            Mouse swallowed, and reached down next to him.  He picked up the slightly beat up weapon, and loaded it.  Walking quietly, Mouse tried to find some sort of crack in the rocks where he could look down upon the Raiders without having to worry about them hitting him.  He found such a crack, and settled down in front of it.

            The Raiders below him were arguing, but Mouse couldn't understand what they were saying.  Their black clothing, which covered everything up the their heads was swishing wildly in the wind, making it hard for Mouse to figure out a vulnerable spot.  Sucking in his breath, Mouse pressed the trigger.

            The bolt hit the Raider closest to him in the back of the neck, and the man slumped forwards, falling onto his friend.  The other Raider dropped the body quickly, and lifted his bow.  He looked everywhere for Mouse, but couldn't seem to find him.  Mouse reloaded his crossbow.  Suddenly, the Raider's gaze stopped roving around, and Mouse knew that the man had seen him.  He ducked as an arrow flew by where his head had been seconds earlier.  

            Mouse ran back to Brigit, who nodded to the halfling.

            "Good job." She said.  Then she turned her gaze back down the mountain.  "There's one left," she said, surveying the scene, "can you get him?"

            Mouse rolled his eyes.

            "Yeh, sure.  O' course I can get 'im.  Ehts jest a matter o' not gettin' meself shot up in the process."

            Brigit looked up.

            "Climb up on the ridge.  I'll distract him.  You shoot."

            "Sure, yeh." Mouse said.  He slung the crossbow lightly over his back and crept up the side of the ridge.

            Brigit sprang up onto it, and started yelling at the top of her lungs.  The Raider turned to look, and aimed his bow at Brigit.  As he did so, Mouse pressed the trigger.  The bolt flew straight, like it always did with Mouse, and hit the man in the chest.  He staggered back too far, and fell off the ledge.

            The crunch his body made when it landed was plainly audible.

            Brigit and Mouse both sighed.  The human, looking tired, jumped down off the ridge and leaned against a stone.  She breathed out heavily.  Wind whistled through the cracks in the rocks.

            "Scouts," Brigit said finally, "Those were scouts.  Whatever party has gone through here sent scouts ahead or behind to check for followers.  I didn't expect to see any Raiders around here, though.  Too close to the next city, Farley."  

            Mouse didn't answer.

            Brigit turned to look at her companion.  She gasped in surprise.

            A large arrow was sticking out of Mouse's side.  The halfling fingered it, a confused expression on his face.  Then, eyes closing, Mouse fell off the ledge and into the nook.

            Brigit leapt forward and caught him before he hit the ground.  She put him gently on the ground, careful not to disturb the wound.  

            With a leap that would have impressed a gazelle, Brigit jumped onto the ledge, and looked down.  Running up the hill, sword drawn and bow across her back was another Raider.  She let out a furious cry and charged Brigit.

            Brigit reached down, and unlatched the axe on her belt.  Grasping the superbly balanced weapon in her right hand, she turned sideways, and watched the woman charge her.  Then, taking careful aim, Brigit flung the throwing axe straight at the Raider.

            It hit her squarely between the eyes.  She dropped dead on the spot.

            Brigit dropped down onto the nook again, and crouched next to Mouse.  Fortunately, the wound didn't look so bad- it seemed to have missed most of the important organs and gone straight through his side muscles instead.   Brigit bit her lip, and sat Mouse up.  She had to remove the arrow, otherwise Mouse would surely die in minutes.  The positioning of the wound didn't mean much-instead of Mouse dying in seconds, as he would have if the wound had pierce his liver or other close by organs, Mouse would now die, slowly and painfully of blood loss.  Unless, of course, Brigit could heal him.  Or, at least, get the halfling to someone who could.  

But first, she had to remove the arrow.  Brigit told Mouse this, and waited for his answer.

Mouse's face was now tinged with green, and he couldn't speak.  He nodded to her though, and squeezed his eyes shut, waiting.  Mouse was gasping for breath.  

Grasping the arrowhead in her hand, Brigit counted to three and yanked.  She pulled the arrow straight through his side.  Mouse screamed in pain, and grabbed Brigit's arm reflexively.  Brigit hugged him close to her, until he had stopped groaning in pain.  Then the human reached into her bag, and withdrew a shirt.  She ripped it into strips and tied them around Mouse's slim waist.  The halfling had passed out by now.  Brigit lifted the little figure up gently, and marveled at how light he was.  Placing him carefully over her shoulders, Brigit stood up and headed down the mountainside.

            Anger bubbled up inside her.  Thoughts, like many angry voices yelling at each other filled her skull.  As she reached the body of the axed Raider, Brigit paused.  Then, without any remorse or sense of dignity, she reached down and yanked the axe out of the woman's head.  Then she kicked her over the side of the cliff.  Let her join her companion on the rocks below.

            Anger filled Brigit.  She wanted to dismember the woman, rip her limb from limb. But somehow, something cool near the back of her mind told her not to give in.  She had to save Mouse.

            Farley was a day's run away.  Had Mouse been in good condition, it would have taken them at least another two days.  Now she could make it there within the hour.

            Brigit ran.


	3. Chapter Three

            _Tangled Visions, Part One_

                                                                        Chapter Three

            _"Hope is the simple idea that the world can be a better place if we try to make it so."_

- Shalyn Bailey

Brigit ran, and didn't stop.

She ran as if the very demons of the Lower Planes were on her heels.  She ran as if her life depended on it.

Someone's life _did depend on it._

            Mouse rocked gently on Brigit's shoulders, head bobbing with her fast gait.  He was draped across her back, and the human held the halfling pressed against her neck, trying not to push on his wound.  The blood from the hideous gash flowed freely now, draining out of Mouse's small body and seeping through his armor.  The red liquid drenched Brigit's neck.  It had long since soaked through the makeshift bandages she had wrapped around Mouse.  

            Brigit didn't feel her weariness, or the small cuts and bruises forming all over her body.  She jumped from ledge to ledge, avoiding moss and other slippery plants with an ease she had never known before.  Sweat poured from her, soaking her clothes and armor, but Brigit didn't notice.  She was intent on the brightening horizon in front of her.  Her eyes never strayed away from it.  It had begun to drizzle now.

            _Not again, Brigit thought over and over again, _not again_.  _Please, Moradin, not again.__

The sun was sinking steadily in front of her, brightening the ground ahead.  Brigit needed to run faster, catch the sun before it fell entirely from the sky.  Brigit didn't know how much time Mouse had left, and she knew that if the sun sank before she reached Farley, then she would have to slow her pace in the darkness.

            And that was something Brigit couldn't let happen.  Mouse didn't have that much time.

            Suddenly, Brigit stopped, her knees almost buckling under her.  The human's calves felt like they were stretching to the point of breaking.  Mud, fresh and watery from the drizzle splattered Brigit's cloak, staining her already dirty clothing.  She put her hand against a tree and panted, her face pointing downwards.  Her knees gave, and she sank to he ground.  Carefully, she lowered Mouse off her back, and inspected him.

            What she saw frightened her.  The halfling's usually ruddy skin was ashen, with green tinting his cheeks.  He breathing was shallow.  Brigit lifted him into a sitting position, and pulled her waterskin off her back.  She tipped it into his mouth, and waited for him to drink.  Mouse coughed, and sipped the water.  Then, almost painfully, the halfling opened his eyes.  His gaze wandered for a second, before settling on Brigit's face.  He smiled weakly.

            "Don't speak," Brigit said quickly as the halfling opened his mouth, "Save your energy.  We have another half mile to go.  Farley is within sight."

            Mouse closed his eyes.

            "Mouse!" Brigit hissed, putting a hand to his cheek, "Stay awake!  You cannot pass away now!"  Brigit looked around desperately.  "Nod if you understand me, halfling!"  Her voice sounded furious.

            Mouse opened his eyes, and inclined his head once.  He kept his eyes open, though it looked as if that was a hard task.  

            Brigit put away her waterskin, and stood up.  She bent over, and gently picked up Mouse's limp form.  Draping him over her shoulders, she took off again.

            It was a run unlike anything Brigit had ever done before.  Her strides were longer than they had ever been, eating away at the ground beneath her.  She was off the mountain now, and far away from the hateful Plains.  Trees in the forest lashed at Brigit, scoring minor scratches across her already scarred face.  Rain fell, mixing with her blood, making it stream down her face like tears.  Her stormy, hawk like gaze was fixated on the dark spire roofs ahead of her.  She paid no attention to other things around her.

            She fought and ran relentless, anger and hatred fueling her onwards.

            Adrenaline was nothing compared to the focused rage that Brigit had learned to control. 

            The rain began to pound now, hitting the earth with more force than it had before.  Brigit could see the sky ahead of her darkening as the sun sank, but she was unable to give her legs anymore power.  She was drained, and she knew it.

            Brigit pressed on harder.

            She was beginning to feel the soles of her feet slam against the sloppy ground, and feel the shudders run up through her legs every time her foot hit a root or stone.  She wasn't looking down anymore-she didn't have the energy left in her to focus on anything else.  A branch came out of nowhere- Brigit ducked fast to save Mouse and herself from a cracked skull each.  Twigs slapped her.  Leaves felt like razors slicing across her skin.  Brigit leapt over a stump, landed, and kept running.

            _Not again.  _

Suddenly, the forest was gone.  Brigit blinked in the glare of the sun's rays as she bolted out of the forest.  Panting, she stopped, and wiped the sweat off her face.  Brigit stood on top of a hill now, overlooking the valley below.  Nestled comfortably between Brigit's hill and the next was Farley, its buildings turned red and pink in the setting sun.  Orange striped the sky.  

            Brigit paused, her body thankful for the break in her pace.  She surveyed the area.  Farley, set in the valley below her was surrounded on all sides by a wall, which probably stood about eight feet high.  There was a gate below Brigit, with two men pacing in front of it.  Brigit's eyes narrowed.  Mouse was wheezing on her shoulder.  He would probably pass out in minutes.  If he did, Brigit knew he would not wake up.  Brigit looked over the guards again.  They were barring the entrance to town with spears, and stopping anyone who came by the gate, inside or out.  Brigit felt her stomach churn.  She didn't have time to argue with the guards about letting her in.  

            _Mouse didn't have time._

            Brigit stepped back, and took a deep breath.  She looked down the hill again, inspecting the wall with a keen gaze.  Sharp metal spikes came off its top, which could easily skewer anyone foolish enough to attempt to jump the wall from the outside.

            Brigit took a step back, then charged down the hill.

            The ground slipped away under her feet, and she plunged downwards.  The wall was ten feet in front of her.  The spikes grew larger.

            Five feet.

            Two.

            The spikes were enormous now.

            Brigit leapt.

            Her momentum got her easily off the ground and right over the front of the wall.  The spikes passed away inches under her feet.  There was a dizzying moment where Brigit felt as if she were flying over Farley, watching the people below her look up and point at the soaring human.  Then she was falling.

            Brigit screamed.

            There was a loud thump as she landed and flipped over, feet flying over her head.  Mouse toppled away from her.  Brigit rolled on her side, trying to moan in pain but too out of breath to do so.  Her legs throbbed, and a burning pain traced its way up her thighs and into her chest.  Brigit gasped for air.  She was on her stomach now, in the slop and mud of the streets.  

Lucky thing the ground had been there to catch her when she fell.

Or perhaps not.

"Unngrgh." Was all Brigit could get out.  Somebody in front of her gasped, and she heard people shout out around her.

"Hey!  She's alive!"

"She cleared the wall!"

"Did you _see that?!"_

"Lookit that!  She's trying to get up!"

The speaker didn't lie.  Brigit clenched her hands into fists, digging trenches in the mud with her fingers.  With agonizingly painful movements, Brigit managed to push herself to her feet slowly.  The crowd surrounding her pulled back, frightened.  

Brigit wondered hazily about why she was attempting to stand on legs that felt as breakable as rusty steel, when her eyes fell on Mouse.  He had not fared well in their little jump.  He seemed to have landed some feet away from Brigit, on his stomach.  The human couldn't tell whether he was breathing or not.  His face pointed towards her, and she could just make out his features, although they were covered in mud.

His eyes were closed.

Panicking, Brigit ran forward and tried to pick Mouse up.  Her knees gave under her.  She didn't have strength left to carry the slender halfling anymore.  Brigit's hands dropped to the ground in front of her, and she looked down at the mud.  Rain slid off her, and she gasped for breath.  Her hair hung down, shielding her face from the villagers.  Then suddenly, she looked up, and turned to face them.  They backed away even farther.

"Help me!" Brigit cried, her mouth hanging open slightly as her breath escaped her chest.  Nobody said anything.  "HELP ME!!!" Brigit cried again, her voice breaking in her frenzy.  The villagers backed up, frightened away.  Brigit turned, and looked down at the ground again, her mind swimming.

Something burst from the wall of people in front of Brigit, and ran to her.  The person crouched in front of the exhausted human.  

"Here," said a distinctly feminine voice, "Give him to me.  I will carry him."

Brigit looked up from Mouse's prone body, and found herself staring into a pair of vast, emerald green eyes.  Strands of short blond hair fell into the amazing eyes, partially hiding one of them.  The face was slightly round, with a small, perfectly shaped nose and full mouth.  Brigit nodded, tearing her gaze away from the other woman's.

"Yes," she said, trying to lift her own aching body, "you take him."

Painfully, Brigit brought herself to her feet.  The woman stood up too, Mouse wrapped up in her arms.  

"Where…is…Where is the nearest doctor?" Brigit managed to get out.

The woman gestured towards the city with her head.  

As she turned, Brigit's keen eyes notice the way the woman's ears seemed to come to distinct points, though Brigit couldn't quite tell because her cropped hair covered the tips.

"This way," the woman said, turning back to Brigit, "I'll take you to the Healer's Hall."  

With that, the woman set off.  The crowd parted, making a path for the two women and the halfling.  The two ran, with Green Eyes in front.  Brigit was exhausted, but somehow, she felt a little bit of new energy in her body.  

Perhaps it was the _hope that somehow the doctors here could help her.  Help Mouse.  _

People in the streets turned to look at the three, but neither Brigit nor the woman paid them any heed.  Mouse still didn't look like he was breathing, but the woman had him tucked against her chest, and Brigit was too far away to tell anyway.  Suddenly, the woman they turned a corner, and saw a formidable looking building rose up in front of them.  There was a metal fence around it, and a large courtyard inside the fence.  Green Eyes slammed her fist against the gate three times, and yelled out,

"Good healers!  Help us!  We have need of your services!" 

There were a couple of men and women walking through the courtyard at that moment, and they paused when they saw the three people outside.  When Green Eyes yelled out, they came rushing over.    They took one look at Mouse, then opened the door.  An old man with a long gray beard and crisp white robes snatched the halfling out of Green Eyes' arms and rushed away, trailing at least eight others behind him.  The two women followed.

Brigit tried to push her way past the doctors, but they blocked her path to Mouse.  They spoke rapidly to each other in another language Brigit didn't understand.  She looked over the men's shoulders, trying desperately to catch a glimpse of the small body.  One of the healers shifted slightly to the side, and Brigit jumped in behind him.  

Mouse lay in the man's arms still.  His old wound was bleeding freely now, and a new gash on his head trickled blood into his left eye.  Mouse looked as if he had passed out.  His skin was so pale it almost looked translucent, and the green on his cheeks seemed to stand out hideously.  Brigit tried to reach for him, but the other people pushed her aside.  They were all walking down a hall, but now they stopped suddenly at a door in front of them.  One of the doctors opened it, and went inside.  The others followed quickly.  

They slammed the door in Brigit's face.

Adrenaline flooded her system, and Brigit slammed her fist against the door, pounding on the wood and stone.

"Damn it all!  Let me in!" she screamed.  She beat her fist against the door.  The sound echoed in the marble corridors. Nobody answered the door.  Suddenly, all Brigit's energy was gone.  The adrenaline wore off, and whatever had been spurring her on before disappeared.  She sank to the floor in a miserable heap, chest heaving, her breath coming in short gasps.  She ducked her head, letting it rest on her arms and knees.  Her various weapons clanged on the ground, but she didn't notice.  Nothing mattered.  She couldn't think straight.  Fatigue had her now, and she couldn't get free.  Her body hurt like it had only once before in her life, and now…This was worse.  Brigit knew this was worse.  

Everything hurt now.  Everything.  Her body, her mind, and her chest.  Her throat closed painfully.  Brigit shut her eyes when the corners began to sting.  She didn't look up.

Brigit didn't know how long she sat there for, but it didn't really matter to her.  She had the crushing feeling that somehow she had failed to do something very important.  She felt dead.  Something in her had closed off again, shutting out whatever little piece of the world she experienced daily.  She wanted to sit here now, and never move.  Her stomach seemed to moan.  She felt nauseated.  

_Let them forget me_, she thought, _let it all slip away.  Like it always has.  Like it always does._   

             Time passed unknown to Brigit.  Nothing mattered.  Then, she heard soft, almost inaudible footsteps coming towards her.  Cloth swished.  The footsteps stopped.  Brigit felt a soft touch on her bare arm, but didn't look up.  Silence.

            "What?" she snapped finally.  Brigit was surprised at how croaky her voice was.  She swallowed, trying to wet the insides of her mouth and throat.  She heard the sound of rustling cloth again.

            "Do you need any help?" said a soft voice from above her.  Brigit didn't bother looking up.

            "Only if you have the key to that door," she said, pointing.  "Otherwise, no."

            "I'm sorry, but I don't.  That's a restricted healing ward.  I don't have enough authority to go in there."

            Brigit sighed, and looked up.  She blinked once or twice in the bright lights of the hallway, waiting for her blurry vision to clear.  It did.

            Standing up in front of Brigit was a man, dressed in the same white robes that everyone else around here wore.  He was looking down at her quizzically, head tilted slightly to one side.  His longish brown hair was combed back, though pieces of it seemed to be considering falling into his face anyway.  His hazel eyes were warm and friendly.  

            Brigit tried to stand, but groaned and fell back again.  She hated when people loomed over her.  The man offered his hand, and Brigit accepted it doubtfully.  He pulled her to her feet easily.  Brigit grabbed the sides of her head as she moved.  Her mind swam, and a headache formed out of nowhere.  The man caught her as she fell backwards.  A look of concern crossed his face.

            "Miss, you seem ill!  What happened?"

            Brigit mumbled something, still trying to figure out why the lights had suddenly gotten so very bright.

            The man put an arm around her shoulder, and another across her stomach, trying to balance her.

            "Come with me." He said.  He began to walk without waiting for Brigit's protest.

            Brigit had no choice but to follow, trying to keep up with the man's long strides.  He was tall, this man, much taller than Brigit was.  He must have been over six feet.  He smelled nice, too.

            Brigit almost slapped herself.

            Obviously, she was even more tired than she had originally thought.

            "Where…Where…Where are we going?" Brigit managed to get out finally.

            The man slowed his stride, and turned and looked down at his little companion.

            "Somewhere where I can get you cleaned up, miss.  You look like you might collapse any minute now."

            "You have keen eyes, Master Healer." Brigit said sarcastically.  Unfortunately, her tired voice killed some of the sarcasm, and turned it into a weak joke instead.

            The man smiled anyway.  His grin was slightly crooked, which made him look very cocky.

            "You need not speak to me so formally," he said, still walking with Brigit almost glued to his side, "I shouldn't mind you calling me by name."

            "Than what is it?" Brigit asked, looking a little uncomfortable.

            "It's Shalyn Bailey.  But perhaps Shale would be easier on your tired mouth." He looked at Brigit's mouth.  He turned away quickly, though, before she could return his stare.

            The new hallway they had passed into looked very much like the last one- all white marbled and clean, like the robes that the healers wore.  But Shale did seem to know where he was, because he turned and opened a door near them.  They walked inside the dimly lit room.  Shale led Brigit over to a cot, and sat her down on it.  Had Shale not leaned her against the wall, Brigit might have collapsed onto the floor.  Shale walked over to the wall, and removed the long stick on it.  Brigit had never seen anything like that stick, and watched interestedly.  Shale took the stick out of its holder, and smacked it gently against the wall.  Suddenly, a comforting yellow glow began to come out of the strange little stick.  The light filled the room, chasing away the shadows.  

            "It's something called a sunstick," Shale explained when he saw Brigit's face.  "We use it to light up rooms like this."

            Brigit didn't have the energy to nod.  Instead, she leaned back against the wall, and closed her eyes.

            Shale sighed, and turned back to the cabinets he had been opening before.  He rummaged around inside them, pulling out bandages, salves, and other things he thought he would need.  Putting the things on the counter next to the bed, he pulled up a stool and sat down in front of the woman.  She opened her eyes slowly, but didn't move.

            "If I'm supposed to put you on the mend, miss, then I must ask you to sit up for me."

            Brigit nodded, and pushed herself into a sitting position with her hands.  She swayed for a second, her eyes glazing over.  She righted herself, though, and braced herself against the wall to make sure it didn't happen again.

            "Here," Shale said, handing Brigit a cup, "Drink this.  It will help."

            Brigit accepted the cup gratefully, and drank from it.

            Her eyes widened in surprise.

            "It tastes like water!" she said, surprised by the medicine.

            Shale smiled his crooked smile again.

            "That would probably be because it _is_ water.  The headache you're getting is from _dehydration- lack of water.  The best medicine for that is just to drink something."  Shale refilled her cup._

            Brigit drank again, and smiled, this time a little less weakly.

            "Huh," she said appreciatively, "I think my family back home would be very interested to know that.  It is not every day you find the cure to such an ailment as headaches and lightsickness.  Of course, knowing them, they might substitute ale for water."

            Shale smiled, and turned back towards Brigit.  He had been dunking a piece of cloth in some liquid, and now began to apply it to Brigit's forehead.  The cut began to sting as soon as the liquid touched it, but Brigit didn't complain.

            "Does your family often have headaches?" Shale said amiably.  He pressed a little harder on the wound.

            Brigit flinched.

            "Yes," she said finally, "Yes they did."  

"Did?" Shale ventured.

"Yes, _did," Brigit snapped._

Shale looked up from the wound he had been trying to clean, and stared at Brigit's face.  She had on a very sour expression. 

"Has it been long since you saw them last?" Shale said, hoping against hope that he hadn't touched on a very sore subject with this woman.

He had.

"Yes, it has been a very long time since I saw them.  And it will probably be a very long time since I see them again," the woman snapped impatiently.  Obviously the water had healed more than the woman's headaches.  It also seemed to have given her back the sharper edge of her tongue.  

For a moment, Shale was quiet, and then said softly, "But perhaps it will not be so long.  Only the Fates can see all ends.  It is always good to have hope.  _That_ is the only thing that we good people can take with us wherever we go."  

Brigit snorted.  Shale was not quite sure what that meant, so he didn't say anything back.  He was quiet, but he did not remove his hand from her wound.

            There was a silence between the two of them for a while.  As her vision cleared, Brigit could get a clearer view of Shale's face.  She much preferred him sitting next to her.  At least then their heights were somewhat level, although she knew if he sat up straight he would still be a good two inches higher than the top of her head.  Brigit studied Shale's features.  She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, and the lines at the corners of them.  This man was older than he seemed to be.  And, when she flicked her eyes upwards, Brigit noticed the gray strands that mingled with the warm brown of Shale's hair.

            Shale raised an eyebrow at Brigit, and pulled his hand away.

            "_What?" he said uncomfortably.  The woman's gaze was very unnerving.  Her eyes were a shade of blue somewhere between stormy gray and deep blue, and they had a piercing, unwavering, and narrow look about them.  Shale had the discomforting feeling that, somehow, this woman could __see into his mind._

            Brigit blinked and turned away.  She didn't want this man to see her blush.

            "Nothing," she said gruffly.  She looked back at him, but did not meet his eyes.  Instead, she watched his hands as they bandaged her arm.  Minutes passed, and Shale slowly patched Brigit up.  Finally, Shale sighed, and ran his hands through his soft brown hair.

              "All right, then," he said.  He rubbed his hands together.  "If you would lie down for a minute, I'll go get some extra materials for when these bandages are dirtied."  

            Shale turned away, and began to put away the things he had been using.  He did it quickly, because he had often been scolded by the Masters for taking too long on the menial tasks of healing.  But Shale _liked_ to take his time putting away his things- it made him feel like he had completed something, and the time he spent organizing the things made him feel like everything would be exactly where he needed them when he came back.  

            He did the job fast, though, as he did not want to get into an argument with the healers again.  Shale didn't particularly like any of them very much.

            Shale turned back to the woman now, about to mention the fact that he still didn't know _her name, but closed his mouth when he saw her.  She was fast asleep on the bed, curled up tightly.  _

_She couldn't have been lying down for more than a minute,_ Shale thought.

Smiling to himself, Shale walked quietly out of the room, and closed the door behind him.  


	4. Chapter four

            _Tangled Visions, Part One_

                                                                        Chapter Four

            _"Good brings only good.  No act of kindness will ever bring about a bad end.  The gift may very well be disguised, though."_

-  Sheeva Callister 

Brigit awoke with the darkness, hate, fear, and pain still ringing in her mind.

The dream was the same as always.  It never changed.  It never needed to.  The nightmare's images and feeling were always vivid and sharp, like the memory itself.  It always filled Brigit with the same unspeakable fear- she was slipping.  Slipping into a darkness of blind hatred and self righteousness.  Slipping into a place where she was no better than they were; where her path differed from theirs only by her choice of targets.

            The light reassured her though, as it always did.  It settled her into the world of the living.  A world away from dark fears.

            Brigit looked around the room she was in, her memories of the time before she had fallen asleep still hidden from her.  The room was only vaguely lit, and all the light seemed to be coming from a long iron stick on the wall.  The stick reminded Brigit of everything.  Throwing off covers she didn't remember putting on, Brigit tried to leap up and run towards the door.  Her head swam before she was halfway up though, and the woman sank back down into her bed again. 

            "Unnngh," was all she could get out.

            There was a rustling sound, and Brigit turned her head to the side.

            "I told you before, miss," Shale said, pouring water into a cup from a pitcher, "It's called dehydration.  It has killed many a great warrior before you who was only once neglectful of his health." 

            Shale handed the cup to Brigit, who accepted it.  She managed to slowly push herself into a sitting position, and drink the liquid.  Her head did seem to clear a bit.

            "I wasn't neglectful," Brigit said defensively, "I had reasons for pushing myself the way I did."

            "No doubt," said Shale seriously, "Was it your friend's health you were worried about?"

            Brigit raised an eyebrow, and turned to look at the human man once again.  His head was cocked a little bit to the side.  Brigit was beginning to associate that pose with his face.

            "How did you know about-" 

            Shale waved a hand dismissively. 

            "I asked one of the others around here what was behind the door I found you by."

            "Ah.  Yes." Brigit looked away.  Then she turned back to face Shale.

            "How long have I been out for?" Brigit asked him.

            Shale looked distant for a second.

            "I should say at least four hours.  Mayhaps more." 

            Brigit's eyes widened.  Dropping the empty cup, she sprang up, ignoring the blinding pain in her skull.  She swooned as she stood, but righted herself quickly, and charged towards the door.  Shale grabbed her before she was halfway there, though.

            Brigit thrashed madly, trying to break free.  Shale's grip was strong though, and he didn't let go.

            "Set me free!" Brigit snarled angrily.  She glared at him.  As unnerving as this woman's eyes were, Shale didn't look away.

            "Miss!  You are barely strong enough to stand, let alone go visit a patient who fared much worse than you did.  Please sit down and wait!"  Shale's voice was stern and furious.  Brigit, surprised by his outburst, sat down quickly, like a discomfited child.  Shale pushed his hair back, and sighed loudly.  The brown and gray hairs had scored one victory, having finally managed to fall into the man's eyes.  Shale gave Brigit an acidic look. 

 She glared back.

            "I already told the other healers to alert me when your friend wakes up."

            "So he's alive then?!" Brigit said, looking a little bit wild.  She grabbed the sides of her bed, as if to steady herself for some type of blow.  

            Shale grinned, relaxing slightly.  He leaned against one of the walls.

            "Yes," he said in his soft voice, "He's alive."

            Brigit sank in her chair.  She put her head in her hands, and for a second Shale thought she was going to cry.  Instead, she sighed, and looked up at the other person in the room.

            "The gods smile on me today." Brigit said, smiling.  She looked extremely relieved.  

            "Yes, I should think they do.  Perhaps we should celebrate this."  Shale poured two cups of water.  He handed one to Brigit, and kept the other.  They toasted.  Brigit sighed.  

Shale gave her a questioning look over his cup.

            "What?" he said, lowering his glass.

            Brigit looked at him.  Shale suddenly became aware of just how tired she looked.

            "I did not expect my companion to make it.  He looked very weak when I saw him last.  You healers can do wonders.  It's almost like magic."

            Shale jumped a little at her last word.  He put his cup down quickly, and gave Brigit a sharp look.

            "There is no magic here, miss, I can assure you."  His voice was severe.  Shale didn't look at Brigit.   

            Silence.

            "I meant no offense, Shale." Brigit finally said.  Her voice sounded hesitant.

            Shale blinked and looked up from his cup.  He had been swirling the water around inside of it, but when Brigit spoke he stopped.  Shale was moderately surprised at the sound of Brigit saying his name.  He rather liked the way she made it sound.

            Shale shook his head, trying to rid the thoughts from it.  

            Obviously he needed to get more sleep.

            "No, it's fine.  I did not mean to speak so harshly."

            Brigit looked down at the bed.  Shale looked towards the door.  Neither of them spoke.

            Finally, he sighed, and turned to the woman.

            "Miss, forgive my curiosity, but perhaps you would not mind telling me what happened out there?  How was it that your friend was injured?"

            Brigit sighed, and pushed some of her braids out of her face.

            "It is truly a long story.  If you have nothing pressing to attend to, I would be willing to share it."

            Shale resettled himself in his chair.

            "No matters call to me.  Please, I am very interested in this tale.  Recount it to me." 

            Brigit sat up straighter, and sipped her water.  Then, she told Shale the entire story, starting from her meeting with Mouse in Jubliant and going up to her leap over the wall in Farley.  Shale seemed to find that part particularly amusing.

            "What is so humorous?" Brigit said questioningly, pausing in her story.  "That jump hurt more than just my pride, y'know."  She rubbed her back, trying to prove her point.

            "No doubt," Shale said, laughing openly now, "There was- still is, in truth- a standing dare between all the villagers that whoever could jump the wall and _not get dashed to pieces won a new horse and cart from the town smith.  It appears I am in the presence of the winner.  I think I shall go collect my winnings from the good Brother, Alexi."  Shale grinned widely._

            "You bet?" Brigit said, skeptical.

            Shale nodded.

            "Well, Pelor take me! Do tell me- what was this gamble on?" Brigit said, still not believing that a healer wearing the symbol of Pelor on his robes really played in the stakes. 

            Shale smiled.  Somehow, when Brigit saw his grin, she didn't have as much trouble picturing him holding dice.

            "Well, we were always trying to guess who would jump the wall."  Shale poured himself another glass.  "Personally," he said, his eyes glinting mischievously at Brigit over his cup, "I did always believe it would be a woman.  Alexi thought me crazy."  

            Brigit joined in Shale's laughter then.

            "I do hope your friend will not hate me too much for his loss!"  Brigit sighed, and leaned back.  Shale sighed too, smile still on his lips.  A comfortable quiet filled the room.

            Both Brigit and Shale jumped when the door opened, and another man in clean white robes walked in.  He coughed when he saw them there together.  The new man looked extremely uncomfortable.  

            "Hello, Brother Bailey," the man said cautiously.

            "Brother Alexi," Shale said pleasantly.  He nodded slightly to the other.  Brigit grinned widely, unable to stop herself.  

The man, Brother Alexi, gripped the door hard, as if trying to stop himself from fleeing. 

"I thought I should tell you, Brother, the halfling you inquired about is awake now."

Brigit shot up, with Shale only a second behind her.

"Yes, thank you very much, Brother," Shale said.  He half bowed to the man, who returned the respectful gesture.  Then he ran.

"Where is he?" Brigit said, staring out into the hallway.  Her head pounded a bit, but she ignored it.  As long as she could stand, she was fine.

"Come with me."

Shale started off down the hallway, robes swishing as his long strides ate up the hallway floor.  Brigit ran to keep up.  They turned a lot in the large corridors, and Brigit soon lost track of the amount of corners they had gone around.

_Sometimes damned buildings are harder to navigate than a forest, Brigit thought bitterly.  She realized uncomfortably, again, just how very tall Shale was.  And how fast._

They stopped at a new door, and Brigit realized that it was the same door she had been locked out of before.  Shale knocked loudly, and said something in a language that she didn't recognize.  The door opened, and an old man poked his head out.  

"Ah, yes," the man said, "Brother Bailey.  And _you," he said, glaring at Brigit, "We have been expecting you two.  Please come in."  He opened the heavy door wider, and the two humans slipped inside.  _

The room was brightly lit.  Light streamed in from one window.  Brigit realized that it must have been a full day since she arrived in Farley, for the sun was rising behind the thin, filmy curtains on the windows.  Like all other places in this Hall, the room was made of white marble, with sunstick holders lining the walls.  A large bed propped up against one wall was draped over with heavy blankets, and a small, pale figure lay under them.  There was a chair in the room, which Brigit ran to and sat down in.

She pulled the chair over the bedside, and smiled.  Mouse turned to look at her.  He smiled back.  His skin was still very pale, but the greenish tinge was gone, and his eyes sparkled a bit.  Bandages were wrapped around his middle, and one was also wrapped around his head.

"It's good to see you awake, Mouse," Brigit said, leaning over a bit to be eye level with him, "I thought as I was running down the mountain side that I was going to lose you."

Mouse sat up a little bit and looked at Brigit.

"Fer a moment ther, yeh almost did.  Ehf I'd passed out back ther', I dunno ehf  I'd ehve woken up agin.  I guess it's a good thin' yer so damn fast, Mountain Runner."  He winked.

Brigit rubbed her face with a hand.  Then she leaned back.

"I guess there is some use in me then, Mouse."

"Oh yah.  That an' the fact tha' yer pretty good with that old pig-sticker of yer's."  

Brigit looked confused.

"Pig-sticker?"

"Oh, well I guess it works jest fine on Raiders too."  He waved a hand dismissively.  Brigit still looked confused.

"What's a pig-sticker?"

Mouse opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the coughing of the old healer in the corner.  Both the patient and his visitor looked up, and the old man turned quickly and walked out of the room.

Mouse laughed as the door closed.

"I think yeh scared 'im away, Brigit." 

She sighed, and sat up taller in her chair.

"It wouldn't first time." She waved a hand over her scar.  "This thing usually does it."  A concerned look came on Brigit's face though, when Mouse grabbed at his side and coughed.  "Mouse, are you all right?"

"Jest fine.  No need te werry.  The good 'ealers said that I should be on meh feet soon enough.  It's meh head that's relleh keepin' me in bed, y'know."  He touched the bandage.  "It stings, it does.  Hurts werse than meh gaping wound on meh side!"

"What is the matter with you're head?"  Brigit leaned forward again.  Her eyebrows were knitted together in a look of genuine worry.

"Oh, I denno.  I can't remember the exact werd they used.  Semthin' like- pincushion?  Maybe…Ah, yeh.  That was it. _Concussion_.  They said I mey have trouble thinkin' straight fer the next couple o' days.  Like, Ehll only beh half as smert as I usually am."  A look of horror came over his face.  Brigit shot up, ready to call for help if need be.

"What?!" she cried.

"Brigit, thes is terrible.  If ehm only half as smert as I usually am, that means… ehm only as intelligent as _you!"  He cried out in horror.  Brigit sat down, and rolled her eyes._

"I thought that arrow might have knocked some sense into you, halfling.  Or at least taken out your sarcasm."  She gave him an acidic look, which we winked at.

"Oh, c'mon, Brigit.  Yeh know yeh love me for it.  How many people out there can boast at makin' fun of you te yer face?"

Brigit grinned wickedly.

"None of the _live ones, Mouse."_

The halfling laughed, and settled into his bed again.  He sighed.

"But seriously, Brigit," Mouse said.  His smile disappeared and a look of gravity came over his face, "I knew how you taxed yerself te get meh here.  And as much as I appreciate bein' here alive and well, I don't ever want yeh doin' that agin.  I wasn't the only one who could ehve died, y'know."

Brigit smiled.

"Mouse, it was all well worth the effort."

There was a comfortable silence then, which neither human nor halfling broke.  Finally, when the pause seemed to stretch too long, Mouse wiggled a bit and turned to face Brigit again.

"Mmmm, yes Mountain Runner.  Energy well spent.  Now I get to terment yeh from the comfort of meh own bed!  And, later, when I'm back on meh feet, I can terment yeh on the road as well!"  

Brigit didn't laugh at the halfling's joke.  Instead, she raised an eyebrow at him.

"So…So then you mean to keep up your side of the bargain?"

Mouse looked confused.  Then he shrugged.

"Well o'course!  Why shudent I?"

"Why would you still want to work for me?  I almost got you killed out there."

A pained look came over the human's face.  

"You?  Get meh killed?  That warsn't yer fault!  I didn't see yeh 'oldin' the arrow!"

"But I led you out there!"

"Hey!" Mouse said suddenly, "Ehm not a sheep, y'know!  I ken make decisions fer mehself!  As far as I know, yeh offered me a risky job back in Jubliant, and I accepted.  I knew there was a chance that Eh could get meself hurt, but I took the werk.  And I got shet up by sem Raider on the way.  Frem what I could see, yeh were tryin' te help, not get meh killed."  Mouse crossed his arms and gave Brigit a stubborn look.  "Ehm not gonna loose meh first piece o' decent, payin' work over a little nick on the 'ead, and I _certainly_ ain't loosin' it 'cause yeh feel guilty about this!"  Mouse pointed to his side.  

Brigit looked slightly abashed.  She didn't say anything, and looked away.

"Well.  I guess that's settled, then."  With a sigh, Brigit stood up, and walked towards the door.  She stopped in the doorway.  "You rest yourself, Mouse.  I'll…I'll be back soon.  I have some work to attend to now."

"Mark meh werds, Mountain Runner," the halfling said, sitting up straight in bed, "I means te stay near yeh.  Don't even try en escape, cause ehll find yeh.  Yeh picked the wrong 'alflin' if yeh wes jest lookin' fer a dirty crook.  Ehm a lot mer than that, y'know."

Brigit smiled, and rested a hand on her waist.

"Yes, Mouse.  You're a blessing."  Then she rolled her eyes.  "But a sick one at that.  Rest now or _I'll be the one doing the finding."_

With that, Brigit walked out of the room.  Some white robed healers who had been gathering in the hallway scattered as she approached.

All but one.

"Is your friend feeling better?" Shale asked in his quiet voice.  He looked genuinely concerned.

Brigit smiled and relaxed.

"Yes, he seems to be well.  I just hope that he stays that way."

Shale smiled.

"The healers in Farley are well schooled in their arts.  I am sure your halfling companion will be back on his feet soon."

Brigit smiled up at the human healer, but stopped herself when she saw his troubled expression.

"What is it?"

Shale folded his arms across his broad chest, and settled his back against the wall.

"I listened to you talk of hunting Raiders.  That is a very dangerous road you travel."

"Yes," Brigit said slowly, "It is.  I have taken it for some time now.  Many dead lay in my footsteps."

"I have no doubt of this," Shale said seriously.  He met Brigit's blue eyes with his own hazel ones.  "But it seems to me that enemies may not be the only ones to fall at your sword.  Yesterday, it seems, a friend lay half dead from a stray arrow."

Brigit said nothing.

"I have training as a healer," Shale said, "I could be of use to you.  I do not have the experience of some here, but I have…talents…that they do not.  I may just be able to save the life of the halfling or yourself."  

Brigit gave Shale an inquiring glare.  

"I wonder as to what other motives you might have, Master Healer.  I know not of many who would willingly take the road my companion and I walk."

Shale clenched his jaws together, and a dark look came over his face.

"Less than a day before you arrived, a group of Raiders came through Farley.  They destroyed half the town, and murdered many.  They stole much, and left little.  This town is hungry and poor now.  We face a harsh winter, with very little to sustain us.  Many will die."

Brigit's eyes widened a little.  He mind snapped back to the thing she had said on the mountainside, before Mouse had been shot.

So the Raiders _had been close to city.  It had worried Brigit then, and the reasons now angered her._

They would pay for this, along with their other crimes.

Shale had been speaking, but Brigit had not heard him.  He looked at her, expecting an answer.  She raised an eyebrow.

"I have missed your last words, Master Healer."

"I wondered if I should be allowed to travel with you and your companion."

Brigit shook her head.

"Would not your services be of more help here?  You said yourself that many will die."

Shale shook his head, and sighed.

"There is little a healer can do against hunger when there is no food to give.  If I leave now, I am simply one less mouth to feed."

"But this mission is yet dangerous.  I can offer no protection that you cannot give yourself."

"I am not a sheltered priest, miss; whatever you may take me for.  You would find, should I come, that I am much tougher than I appear." 

Brigit smiled.

"It is your own choice, Shale, I simply advise against it.  I pay for Mouse's help.  I have no money to offer you."

"I would not accept it, miss.  I will travel with you, as a friend and companion, not some sort of helping hand."

Brigit sighed.

"I fear your mind was set before you asked me, and nothing I could say will sway it."

Shale smiled a little.

"I think you have uncovered the truth, miss."

The two humans stood for a second, not looking at one another.  Then Brigit offered her hand.  Shale took it, and they shook.  As soon as their hands fell to their sides, Brigit whirled and set off down the corridor.  Shale followed her, looking surprised.

"Where are you set off to, then?"

Brigit smiled a devious little smile.

"I believe I have winnings to collect from the blacksmith, Shale.  My little jump seems to have won me a horse and cart, and I can think of no faster way to get to the Plains."

"Well then, miss, I should think you would want to be heading that way, then.  The town blacksmith is this way."  Shale stopped, and pointed back down the hallway.  Brigit stopped too, and shook her head.  She smiled.

"Thank you, Master Healer.  You have saved me a long trip around Farley."

"It was nothing.  But now I have a small favor to ask of _you_."

Brigit paused.  

"What would this favor be, then?"

Shale grinned, smile askance.

"Would you mind terribly if I asked your name?"

                                                * * * *

Brigit kicked at a stone by her foot.

 "He has cheated us!" she cried.  Her loud voice got the attention of other people in the market place, most of who looked over curiously at the two humans walking together.  "He lied!  Everyone could tell!  We even got his helpers to confirm that the bet was real!  I don't understand why he wouldn't give us the cart!"  Brigit stomped up the muddy streets.  

It had stopped raining now, but the sky was an overcast gray and the streets were still sloppy from the wetness.  The dirt and stone roads splattered mud on all who walked up them.

"We need papers to confirm that the bet is a legitimate, standing offer," Shale explained calmly to his fuming companion.  "If we can produce those, he will give us what we want."

"In Pelor's name!  It is not like I can pull papers like those out of thin air, y'know!  I'm no mage!"  She put a hand on the pommel of her short sword.  She stopped, seeming to consider drawing it.  People on the street backed away.

"Mayhaps _this_ will be all the papers he needs!"  Brigit glared out in the general direction of the shop they had come from.

Shale stopped, and sighed a little.

"I can get the papers we need, Brigit.  I'm no magician, but the bookkeepers of this town _can_ work wonders."

He waited patiently for Brigit to calm, then the two set off again.

They did not walk far.  Less than a street away was a small shop with a sign on the front that read:   **The Scribbling Quill-Books and Writings**_._  

Shale went over to the door and knocked once.  Then he entered quietly, and a bell tinkled overhead as the door opened.  Brigit followed.

The large room was dark, and filled with books and scrolls.  Some were tucked away neatly onto shelves, but most lay scattered about the room in messy piles and heaps.  There was a big desk in the back of the room, and a large, gray haired man with broad shoulders sat in a chair behind it, reading a leather-bound book.  He looked up when the door opened, and smiled.

"Ah!  Good morning to you, Master Shale.  A bit early, isn't it?  Doesn't your shift end around noon?"

Shale smiled, and closed the door behind Brigit.

"I'm not here on my break today, Kamon.  I have business."

The man, Kamon, stood up.  He closed his book, and came out from behind the desk.

"What may I do for you then?"

"My companion and I were hoping that you might have some old records of the wall jumping gamble."

"Why would you want those?"

Shale smiled, and gestured to Brigit.

"My friend here seems to have beaten the game, but the blacksmith refuses to give the prize."

Kamon rubbed his hands together.

"Yes, that sounds like Jel to me.  Always wanting his things on paper, that man."  Kamon shook his head.  "Well, I have no idea in the faintest where I would have put those.  I'll see if my wife knows.  I'll be right back, Master Shale."  

The man disappeared through a door in the back.  Brigit turned to look at Shale.

"How do you know this man?" she whispered.

Shale smiled.

"I come here to read when my shift at the Hall is over.  I know Kamon and his family quite well."

The door in back opened, and the gray haired man emerged again, talking to a person Brigit presumed was his wife.  Her hair was long and as black as a crow's wing, and her skin was pale.  She had eyes the color of still wet leaves, and a small, thin body.  She was very pretty, and looked barely twenty, compared to her husband's good forty years.  Brigit blinked in surprise, though, when she saw the woman's ears.  They were long and pointed, and stood out slightly from her head. 

Obviously, this woman was an elf.  

"…Of course I know where the documents are, Kamon.  I just placed them with the others yesterday."

"Shale needs them.  His lass jumped the wall, I hear."

"Really?  That is quite an accomplishment.  She should be proud."

Shale looked uncomfortable.

"Brigit is not my girl.  She's…only a friend." 

The woman raised an eyebrow.

"I see.  I will get the records.  Please give me a minute or two."

With that, the woman disappeared behind some bookshelves.

"So Shale, tell me," Kamon said warmly, "I have not heard from the Hall or you in some time.  How are things there?"

The two began to speak, and Brigit didn't bother following the conversation.  Instead, she walked down some of the rows of shelves, looking at the spines of the old books.  Most of the titles were written in Common, but some were written in languages Brigit didn't recognize.  There didn't seem to be any real organization of the shelves, and the topics and ages of the books covered many years and subjects.

Brigit stopped at one red book on the shelf to her right.  She looked at it, and furrowed her brow.  Then, after a brief hesitation, she pulled it of the shelf.  The title was printed in gold script, in a language other than Common.  Brigit ran her right hand over the familiar runes, touching the cover almost reverently.  She flipped slowly through the pages, not really bothering to read the script.  The book smelled of old rock and dirt.

"Can you read dwarven?" said a voice behind her.  Brigit spun, and found herself staring into a pair of dark green eyes.  The elven woman smiled a little.

"No, I can't," Brigit said quickly.  She hurriedly replaced the volume on its shelf.  "I was only looking."  She walked quickly up to Shale, severely rattled.

"Did you find them, Talia?" Kamon asked his wife.

"Yes, there were where I left them." She held up some old, yellow papers.

Shale sighed.

"I was hoping you two could help us."

Talia smiled her little smile again.

"You must thank Sheeva later, then.  She convinced me to go through all those scrolls two days ago."

The front door burst open, and all in the room turned to look.

A girl barely twenty it seemed, had run into the small shop.  She was carrying a large wooden box, which she dropped heavily onto the desk.

"There!" she said proudly.  Even though she was out of breath, her voice seemed light and musical.  "I got the last of the books from Beren.  He said there was not a single one left in his house!"  The girl smiled, and put her hands on her small hips.

"Wonderful, Sheeva," Kamon said.  "I hope we did not bother the innkeeper too much about this."

"He did not seem to mind me there, father," Sheeva said, "Although…I somewhat doubt he would."

She grinned mischievously.

Brigit blinked in surprise, but found herself unable to speak.

The girl in front of her was a good two inches taller than Brigit, and was no doubt the prettiest woman the human had ever seen.  Her body was thin and willowy, and her movements graceful.  Her hair was almost golden in color and hung only to the nape of her neck, but looked smooth and soft.  She was wearing a pale, cream colored shirt, which fell down in back to the bottoms of her long thighs like a cloak.  She wore a loose and billowy skirt, that was the same color as her shirt.  Brigit could not see Sheeva's face.

"Hello Shale," the half elf said pleasantly, "Is it not a bit early for you to be off work?"

"I'm not here on pleasure today, Sheeva.  I come on business."

"And of what kind?"

"My friend here has jumped the wall outside Farley, and won herself a horse and cart.  Jel refuses to acknowledge such a bet existed here, so I need the papers to prove it did."

"Who is your friend?"  

Brigit moved from the shelf she had been standing behind.  Sheeva turned to look at her.

The woman had a round face, with a small, perfectly shaped nose and full mouth.

Her eyes were an emerald green.

Recognition registered on the faces of both the half elf and human at the same time.

"I…"

"You are the woman I saw yesterday!  I took you to the Healer's Hall!"

"I…Yes, you did…"

"How is he?  How is your little friend who was wounded?"

"He woke up this morning.  I think he should be fine, thanks to you."

Shale and Sheeva's parents watched the brief exchange with interest.  Then Kamon spoke.

"I see you two already know one another.  How is this?"

Sheeva explained briefly what had happened the day before.  Shale and the others looked mildly surprised.

The half-elf turned back to Brigit.

"Why are you here now?"

"We needed papers to prove to Jel that Brigit really jumped the fence," Shale said quickly.

"I see.  But why do you want the prize?"

"I have need of them," Brigit said simply.  She didn't elaborate.

Sheeva pressed the subject.

"For what use?"

"Yes," said Talia suddenly, "Why do you need them?  Surely there is someone who would gladly lend you a cart to drive around town in?"

"We do not travel to Farley," Brigit said sourly, "We go to the Plains."

Silence.  

"The Plains?" Kamon said.  His face was pale.  "But…Surely you can avoid them.  There are routes around…"

"But the Raiders travel on them, Kamon," Shale said.  He ran a hand through his own hair.  "And we seek the Raiders."

The quiet that followed that statement was an uncomfortable one.  Nobody moved or said anything.  Then, finally, Sheeva cleared her throat.

"But…Why would one want to go after such dangerous people?"

Brigit sighed.  Her eyes narrowed, and her fierce hawk like gaze returned.  Sheeva's City-bred accent sang in her ears.

"One follows their prey wherever it runs."  Brigit didn't say more.  

No more needed to be said.

"I suppose…I take it you will need these, then." Kamon handed the papers to Shale, who took them gingerly.

"Yes.  And thank you."

"Pelor protect you both."

The two humans left quickly, sensing the tense atmosphere in the room.  Talia and Kamon went back to their work, trying to pretend they had not heard the strange and chilling words that the two others had spoken.

Brigit kicked at the cobblestones as she walked, and splattered mud all over her boots by doing so.  She sighed.  Shale didn't look at her.  "Well," she said, and her voice sounded like two large stones being rubbed against each other, "I don't think that went over so well."

"What didn't?"  Shale looked down at the woman.

"That.  Back there."  Brigit sighed.  "It's of no consequence, though.  We have the papers, right?"

Shale nodded.  "We do.  Jel will give you your winnings now, I should think."  Shale smiled crookedly.  "He may not be the nicest of folk, but he's certainly an honest man.  Besides, I doubt he's in any mood to try and cheat you- We've given more than his fair share of trouble today."

Brigit growled, and even Shale flinched at the noise.  Some of the villagers who had been walking close by pulled away.  Brigit reached for the short sword at her side again, and the people scattered.  "I'd have given him more, but you were there, Shale.  Things could have faired much worse than they did."  

Shale looked away again, smile gone from his face.  His hazel eyes looked haunted.  "And for that I thank you.  I have seen enough bloodshed to last _two_ lifetimes."

Brigit turned to look at the man, but did not answer immediately, questions forming in her mind.  She looked down at her boots again.  "Than perhaps you should stay here, Shale."  Her voice had softened considerably. "Raiders bleed no different than townsmen, after all."

The man turned back to his companion.  "I go with you to prevent blood spill, Brigit:  Your own and that of your halfling friend."

Brigit sighed and ran a hand through her braided hair, feeling the grime between her fingers.  "A favor I am thankful for, master healer, but I warn you again:  This is no game I play.  I go to kill and I take no prisoners.  When I am done…"  She paused, and her hand went to her face, her strong fingers lingering on her black scar for a second.  "I have debts to fill," she said suddenly, voice clipped.  She pulled her hand away from her face.  "They will be repaid."

"In bloodshed?"

"Yes."

Shale shrugged his shoulders, trying to loosen the tense muscles.  Questions were forming in his own mind now.  "Well.  I guess I go with you to spill blood as well as heal that that has been shed.  May Pelor will it," he said, and his hand went to his chest, fingers forming the Sign against it, warding off evil.  Brigit raised an eyebrow when she saw it, but said nothing.  Her fingers itched to make her own symbol, but she resisted the urge.  

"Yes.  Pelor will it."  And she added her own prayer silently.  Brigit pulled her hand away from her hair then, and looked down at it.  She flinched a little when she saw the copious amounts of dirt that now coated her fingers.  "Shale?"

"Yes?"

"I have a favor to ask of you."

He looked down at her then.  "Then request it, and I'll see what there is to be done for my part."

Brigit grinned.  "I'm not sure how much help you can on this but…Perhaps, after I collect my winnings and see to my friend again, you could point me in the direction of the baths?  I fear that I may have been road-bound too long for my own good."  And she grinned again.

Shale straightened a little, then grinned himself.  He looked down at the woman again, taking in the dirt and grime and filth she was covered in.  Well, now that he looked at it, she truly was a mess.  Leaves and twigs sprouted out of the bird's nest she sported on her head, and her tanned skin was barely visible underneath the muddy armor she wore.  Yes, Brigit was indeed a mess, and a sight that even a blind man would recoil from.  Shale ran a hand through his own pleasantly clean hair, pushing back some of the gray and brown strands again.  "Of course I shall."  Then he grinned, and his face was an odd mix of awkward embarrassment and crooked self assurance.  "Not- I mean, not that you need- Ah…"  Shale looked extremely embarrassed.  "I meant no offense, Brigit. My apologies."  

Brigit grinned widely, and tried not to laugh at the look on the man's face.  "No, Shale.  No, it's fine."  And she laughed loudly.  "No offense taken."  Her laughter grew, and she couldn't continue speaking.  Shale's grin grew a little too, and he rubbed the back of his head.  He laughed awkwardly, but then more confidently as he saw the amusement on the woman's face.  The two continued down the street.  

_Well, she's not quite so terrible after all.  Perhaps I was right for once.  Perhaps I did not misread her after all.    _

Back at the end of the street, a small figure was leaning out of the bookstore doorframe, staring after the two humans.  Sheeva stood by the entrance for a minute or so, a strange, eager gleam in her emerald eyes.  She watched their backs keenly, and continued to stare at the place they had been even after Brigit and Shale had disappeared into the crowd.  Then, with movements as quick and silent as a cat's, the half-elf disappeared into the store again, the bell tinkling slightly behind her.


	5. Chapter Five

            _Tangled Visions, Part One_

                                                                        Chapter Five

            "I think that, if you own something for long enough, part of you bleeds into that object until it becomes part of you as well."

                        -Brigit Stoneheart

            "Well," said Shale casually, "These are the Bathhouses."  He gestured to the white marble buildings in front of them.

            Brigit and Shale were standing on the grounds of the Healer's Hall again, squinting in the bright light of the afternoon sun.  It was quite sunny now, which was a great contrast to the rainy weather of yesterday.  Obviously Obad-Hai was in a tricky mood this week if he was playing such games.  Brigit turned to look at her lanky companion.  "You will tell Moue where I am?"

            Shale nodded to her and smiled.  "Of course.  If he's not resting."  He continued to walk along the paved road in front of them.  "This is the door to the women's section of the baths.  You can find your way around inside, I'm sure?"

            Brigit shrugged.  "As long it's not a maze I'm sure I'll be all right, Master Healer.  And though I don't look it, I do know how to use a bath."  Her face crinkled up into a smirk, and her black scar scrunched up a little under her eye.  Shale ran his fingers through his hair and smiled.  

            "Then I take my leave of you, Swords Lady.  When you are finished here, head up to the main door of the building you came in by.  I'll have one of the healers keep an eye open for you."  And Shale turned again, white robes rustling softly around his ankles as he walked.

            "Shale?"  Brigit said suddenly, her face smoothing out into its more usual frown.

            He stopped, and turned his head a little, looking back over his shoulder at her.  "Yes?" he said reluctantly.

            "…Thank you."  Her voice was hesitant, as if unused to such words.  In truth, Brigit's tongue was simply out of practice at using them.  

            Shale inclined his head slightly, his lips quirking up at the corners.  "It was nothing.  I shall wait with Mouse, Should you need me, Brigit."  And he turned and disappeared around a corner.

            Brigit sighed and opened the door to the Bathhouse.  Immediately her nose was hit with the tang of soap and hot water.  The marble corridor was steamy, and the warm mist clung to her bare, muddy skin.  Brigit did really need a bath.  It had been a while since she had taken a real one, after all.  One did not get much chance at hot water and soap on the road.

            The corridor continued on for a little, before breaking off into different rooms.  Brigit chose a bathroom empty of people.  She locked the door behind her.  It wasn't that she was embarrassed by her own nudity, or anyone else's, for that mater.  It as more that she liked her privacy.  Enjoyed it.  This was going to be the first real bath she had taken in weeks.  Brigit planned to enjoy herself.

            There were faucets over the white marble tub, and when Brigit turned them, water poured forth.  The human woman was surprised really- running water meant pipes.  Pipes meant a network of underground waterworks.  That meant Farley was a rich town- probably a lot richer than it looked. The room was steamy and hot, though not unpleasantly so.  Brigit's boos left visible stains on the polished floor, and she felt somewhat bad for it.

            Somebody was going to have to clean up after her, after all this was done.  She felt somewhat sorry that someone would have to deal with her mess later.  She frowned a little.  Well, is she wasn't there, it wouldn't matter.  One could only lay blame on a present subject, after all.  She would make note to leave the Bathhouses quickly afterwards.

            Steam curled out of the now filled bathtub, rising up into the air in swirling, mystical patterns.  The water below the steam was hot and glassy, everything below the surface hazy and shifting.  For a second, Brigit stood still, staring into the rippling water, unsure.  Then she frowned, snapped out of her thoughts, and reached forward to turn off the faucets.  The water stilled somewhat, but the human woman still couldn't see beneath the surface.  She began to undress.

            It was hard to get off the armor.  Brigit realized this quickly.  The straps on it were tightened, the leather stiff from disuse.  Brigit rarely removed her armor, rarely opened herself up like that.  Leave herself open to attack and hurt like that.  The buckles were the worst of it though, because the layers of dirt and grime had accumulated on them, building up to the point that they couldn't be unfastened properly.  Brigit fought with the chainmail shirt for a while, muttering curses under her breath as she did so.  The room was almost unbearably hot and misty now, all because of the water in the tub.  Finally, the armor gave, and the leather and metal came loose around her shoulders.  There was a sharp sucking sound as she pulled the armor off her body, and the noise was akin to the sound a jar makes when its tightly fastened top comes off quickly.

            Brigit dropped the armor to the ground, fingers tired and numb from the work of undoing the impossible buckles.  She stared down at the covering, and felt a strange desire to put it back on.  It was an ugly piece of armor, there was no doubt about that.  It was covered in mud and dirt, and the patches of hide Brigit had sewn onto it where the leather or mail had worn thin did look quite mismatched and crude.  But despite its unattractiveness, Brigit was fond of the metal.  It served her well, and she owed her every breath to it for the number of times it had saved her life.  She looked at the missing sleeve on it once more, then sighed and began to unfasten the rest of her coverings.

            After her armor, Brigit's boots were the worse for wear.  The once pristine hide was now covered in mud, dirt, blood, and Gods knew what else.  You couldn't even tell what color the boots had originally been.  Brigit ran her fingers over them, wiping away some of the blood.  She paused for a second, studying the side of one.  The hide under the dirt was showing through, and the human woman could just make out the strange, geometric patterns that had been burned into them as decoration.  She brushed more of the much away, and her fingers traced down the symmetry, the sharp angles, the perfectly straight lines.  The patterns were beautiful, true, but foreign.  Certainly not made by humans.  Brigit smiled a little, full lips quirking up oddly at the corners.  It was best that the dirt that covered hid the decorations as well.  Such strange patterns were bound to attract attention, and that was something Brigit did not want in excess.  Then again, a strong, tanned woman walking around in men's breeches and carrying a giant sword attracted much more attention than one article of clothing in itself would.  But Brigit would never wear a dress on the road- it was impractical for traveling in.  Men's clothes were much more suitable.

            The woman stripped off her boots, then sat down at the edge of the tub and stripped off the rest of what she was wearing as well.  She left it all in a messy, dirty pile on the floor.  Perhaps, when her bath was done, she would clean those as well.

            They certainly needed it.

            Then, with one long, last look at her discarded armor, Brigit slid herself into the tub.

            The water was much hotter than she had expected it to be.  It sloshed around her wildly, burning her now bared skin, and Brigit clench her jaws against the heat.  It was unpleasant, this first step, but the woman had convinced herself long ago that there was nothing in the world, no type of pain, no type of loss, which you couldn't adjust yourself to.  There was nothing that you couldn't overcome if you set yourself to it.

            For a second, Brigit sat there, in the tub, strong jaws clenched together and her calloused fingers raking against the polished porcelain on the tub's sides.  Then she took a deep breath and sank into the water, dunking her entire body below the surface.  For a second, her braided, tangled hair floated on the surface, and then was dragged down with the rest of her.

            Brigit found that was the way to do things- just jump right in, and worry about the consequences later.  The water was hot, but she knew she would adjust best to it if she threw herself in.  Maybe the water was hotter than she had expected it to be, and she would end up burning herself.  That remained to be seen, of course.  There was no way to know until she tried.

            Brigit lay under the foggy surface for a couple of seconds, holding her nose.  Then she sat up, breaking the smooth surface of the water with a large splash that sent droplets of sparkling water everywhere.  The woman took a couple of deep breaths, blinking water out of her stormy eyes.  Her braided hair straggled into her face, and she tried to brush the tangles out of her eyes.  They fell back quickly, obscuring her vision again.

            Brigit sat that way for a minute or two, tanned chest rising and falling heavily, her lips slightly parted as she breathed.  She wasn't sure what she was thinking about then, or if she was even thinking at all.

            It had been a long time since Brigit had taken a bath.  She wasn't used to the steam, the heat, or even the freshness of the water.  She wasn't even used to soap.  And that reminded her.  Brigit straightened in the tub, her thoughts collected.  She turned; hand over her breasts and her hair falling down past her shoulders.  She hadn't bothered unbraiding it all, because in truth she wasn't prepared to deal with it.  The snarls.  The knots.  The tangles.  Unbraiding it meant work.  Brigit needed time to straighten that kind of thing out.  Time she didn't have, or didn't want to waste.  She could clean it though, make it look nice, at least.

            Brigit picked up the soap in her left hand, letting the lather run down her wrist and forearm.  The foggy water was actually hot enough to make the soap melt in her fist. She wondered about that suddenly, wondered at how some substances remained unharmed .  Brigit smirked slightly.  Obviously, she was made of tougher stuff than she had thought.  She could stand up to the heat.

            The water was darkening now, turning a deep brown color from the dirt and blood that was slowly slipping off her body.  Brigit lifted one leg out of the water and began to soap it up.  She winced a little as the lather rushed over the small cuts that ran up and down her body, not liking the stinging sensation it bought as she cleaned them out.  Brigit splashed water on herself, letting it drip down her legs.  She inspected the numerous small scars that covered her body, pink white scratch marks till shiny like new scars always were.  Brigit sighed a little.  Not all scars healed so nicely though.  No.  Brigit had found out the hard way that some scars could never heal over.

            Some would remain forever.

            Brigit splashed some water over her face, closing her eyes against the spray.  She could almost feel the grime peel off her face.  She hunched for a second, shoulders slumping and her head falling forwards onto her chest.  She sighed.  Her hair fell forward over her face and her dark eyes closed as droplets of water slid into them.  She lifted her hands to her face and ran her calloused fingertips over the soft skin.

            The smallest of frowns formed on Brigit's lips as her finger passed over the scar that marred her face. She traced its path, followed the indentation it made.  Her eyes fluttered open, and a short sigh escaped her lips.  Brigit shifted a little, displacing the water in the tub.  And  then she squeezed her eyes shut, and a shudder went down her spine.  She pressed her strong fingers against her cheekbones, against her old wound.  

            Perhaps the worst part was she couldn't remember the knife that did it to her, nor the person holding it.  Maybe they were dead.  Maybe she had killed them.  She had killed so many that first night, in that first rage.  Brigit swallowed, brow furrowing as she tried to remember.  She drew herself farther out of the water.

            It had been dark then, the sky cloudy and the new moon just risen.  There had been fires.  She remembered the orange glow that had been cast on her legs.  And then the voices.  The talk.  Brigit clenched her fists suddenly, and the water swirled around her dangerously.  Her eye shot open, blazing with fury.  The rage rose in her throat, blocking her breath and making her chest tight against her ribs.  It was the beginnings of a rage that she had tried to force down, along with the memory that had stirred it.  

            Once it had been brought to the surface though, the memory would not rest.

            Brigit thrashed a little in the water, hate running down her spine that the droplets of water and sweat that glistened on her skin.

            It was so unclear, that memory.  It was bitter, like a red wine that had gone acidic with age.  The images were dark, splashed with orange here and there.  Colored with hate.

            Black robes.  Flashes of metal glistening in the firelight.  Shouting.  The sharp clang of steel.  The roar of the fires.

            And then there was a salty smell, like sweat almost, but sweeter.  Brigit could feel it tingle in her nostrils even now, sharp and tangy and all of it running in streams along the ground, dark, splashed, like the same wine from a broken bottle all lit up in the orange glow of the fires.

            Brigit liked the smell.  She liked it a lot.  A small part of her, half drowned and tangled in the darkness of her subconscious was sickened by the woman's pleasure.

            Brigit inhaled deeply, her hand causing a small explosion on the calm surface of the water where she had dropped it from her face, away from her scar.  Her eyes were squeezed shut.  

            The rest was gone.  She couldn't remember any of the night after that last little scrap.  She remembered the hate that had boiled in her blood and erupted from her in a chorus of snarls and growls.  She remembered pain, vaguely.  But pain wasn't the sharp sensation for Brigit that it was for most.  It wasn't that she had trained herself not to feel it.  It was more that the sensation of pain was too small, too weak, for her to fully comprehend it anymore.  Brigit had too much experience with pain to notice or care when she subjected to a little more of it.  Things had to be intense with Brigit.  They had to be sharp, all consuming, to make her stop and feel them correctly.

            Like that smell.  Or that hate.

            And the next thing Brigit could remember was the sun rising, bright and red in a pink sky.  She had awoken slowly, her sword pressed against her naked body and her hair, now tangled, mussed with dirt and grime and blood, all of it falling into her eyes.  And then her blindness.  She remembered that clearly.  She remembered the initial panic that had risen in her throat when she had realized that her right eye was not functioning.  And she could remember the relief when she opened it finally, wiping away the hardened blood and flinching a little at the sharp pain that stung her face when her dirt caked fingers had brushed over the blood clots forming in the open gash along her face.

            A new scar.

            An old memory.

            And then the crimson sun that rose in a red sky, rising on a new day.  A new day that marked a second beginning for Brigit, a second birth.

            And then the sweet, salty blood that had run down her sword to her wrists, her forearms, down her bare chest and her legs, once orange in the firelight, now brown with the blood that had dried there.

            Not her blood.

            Their blood.

            Raider's blood.

            …And she had liked that.

            The voice inside her had been buried then, in contrast to the rising sun.  It had drowned it the sweet blood.

            Brigit ran her finger through her hair.  Revenge was sweet.

            But messy.

            She stepped out of the water then, splashing a lot as she did so.  The water, once glassy and fogged over with heat, was now darkened with the grime of Brigit's endeavors.  She shook herself, spraying water everywhere.

            Well, someone would just have to clean up after her.

            Brigit opened her eyes and pushed her hair out of her face with one hand.  It was still a mess, still braided, but clean now, and Brigit herself looked presentable.  Now all she needed was some clean clothes.  

            Brigit wrapped herself up in some thick and fluffy cloths, then headed towards the door.  As she walked up to it, she passed a large mirror that had been propped p by it.  She stared at her reflection, eyes caught on her face.

            She was clean.  She was presentable.

            But some scars didn't heal.

            And some couldn't be washed away. 


	6. Chapter Six

            _Tangled Visions, Part One_

                                                            Chapter Six

            "No matter how far one travels, no matter where one goes, the first step is the start of every adventure."

            -Sheeva Callister

            It had been a couple of days since Brigit and Mouse had arrived at Farley, and the halfling had been recovering steadily ever since.  Brigit was truly surprised at how fast he had recovered, really.  Within two days he was on his feet again, walking around without help and going where he pleased.  And, Brigit had noted dryly, in half that time his mouth was back in full working order.

            Obviously eating the mush the healers here gave him was good for the halfling.

            He had taken a couple large bags it with him, anyway.  

            The human woman had spent most of her time with Mouse in the Healer's Hall, but she went out occasionally to make sure that their things were in order before they began traveling again.  Shale helped her with that mostly, and, when he was feeling better and the Healers agreed that it was all right, Mouse pitched in as well.

            It was on the third day of their stay in Farley that Mouse said he felt fit to travel again.  Brigit had looked him over once, and decided the halfing was right.  In truth, Mouse looked better than he had when Brigit had first met him.  There was actual weight on him now, and the color was returning to his cheeks.

            Mouse wasn't the only one taking advantage of a couple days of bed rest though.  Brigit had taken the time to clean all her armor, sew the rips and tears in her clothing closed, and mend her traveling goods.  She looked much better for the break as well, even if she was practically itching to get back out on the road again.  Even Shale, who Brigit had found to be one of the most relaxed and laid back men she had ever met, seemed restless.

  They were _all_ ready to travel again.

            It was a fair day when the three started out.  The sky was a little overcast, and the damp air seemed to whisper of rain when the wind blew, but the ground was dry and the temperature good, and so it was a fair day for traveling.  Brigit paused in her work at the carthorse's harness, and watched the sun climb higher into the sky behind the clouds.  She smiled a little at the freshness of the weather.  Goblin turned his ugly head around quickly, catching Brigit unaware and giving her a solid nip on the arm.  She flinched, more at the sound of teeth scraping on metal than in actual pain.  Goblin was a small, decrepit beast, white and flea-bitten and badly shaped, with the temperament of soured milk.  He pulled a cart to match.  

            Brigit frowned, then slapped the white muzzle with her free hand.  The gelding snorted and turned back sulkily.  He flicked his wire-rough tail and glared at the human woman over his shoulder.

            And, apparently, Brigit was the first person Goblin seemed to like in the least.

            "I assume those are love-bites?"

            Brigit turned quickly, and started back in surprise.  Shale was leaning against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest and his familiar crooked smile etched over his face.  Goblin had become something of a joke between the two humans.  Shale maintained the animal was as rotten at the core as an old apple, and was better off being put to field.  Brigit said that the horse still had some use in him, as long as you didn't let him push you around.

            But it wasn't what Shale had said that had startled Brigit so badly.  It was what he was wearing.  

            Brigit was used to seeing the healer dressed in the white robes of his profession, with the gold symbol of Pelor woven into it somehow.  Well, Shale still had on a small medallion marked with the stern face of the Sun God, but he had exchanged his robes for a suit of well kept plate armor, which he looked far too comfortable in.  Hanging at his side was a heavy mace, tucked into one of the loops in his belt, the head of which disappeared beneath the folds of the brown traveling cloak he was wearing over it all.  The cloak looked suspiciously like the material used to make burlap sacks.  Brigit gaped, openmouthed.  Shale's grin widened, and he pushed off the doorframe and sauntered over to her, his casual grace belying the heaviness of the armor he wore.  He cocked his head a little to one side and raised an eyebrow.

            "I did tell you before, Brigit," he said, the grin never leaving his face, "Not to take me for a sheltered priest."

            It was a couple of seconds before Brigit regained her voice.  

            "Am I to take it, then, Master Healer," she said dubiously, "That you have some skill with that mace of yours?  And in such heavy armor?"

            Shale ran a gauntleted hand over his hair, trying to push it out of his eyes.  Another failed attempt.

            "Would I wear it if I didn't?"

            Brigit shook her head, and turned back to the cart.  Goblin eyed her warily.  "_Bur-rar-rum," she muttered under her breath, "What times we live in when even those sworn to heal and protect wield weapons, no?" she glanced at Shale out of the corners of her stormy eyes, and continued to throw supplies into the cart._

            The man was about to respond, when a terrified squeal sounded from the doorway.  The two humans turned to look.

            "Oh?  Es tha' the herse and cart yeh went an' won yerself?"  Mouse squeaked out loudly.  He was standing in the doorway, his pack on his shoulders and his own beaten armor back on his somewhat increased frame again.  A couple of healers hovered in the doorway behind him.  At the sound of the halfling's voice, Goblin laid back his ears and bared his teeth.  He whinnied a challenge and half reared, pawing the air with his dangerous hooves.  Brigit and Shale both stepped back quickly, though the woman grabbed the reins and wrestled the animal back to all fours.

            Mouse paled quite visibly.  Then he glared at Brigit and pointed an accusing finger at her.  

            "Tha's not a herse!  Tha's a _demon_ maskeradin' as one!"  His black eyes flicked to the cart the horse was attached to, then back to Brigit.  "Yeh cinna seriously be expectin' me the ride in bahck o' tha' thin, ken yeh?"  He looked _extremely_ dubious.

            Brigit just looked cross.  She gripped the reins more tightly in her hand.  "Good morning, Mouse.  How nice to see you up and about.  You'll be happy to know I put the rest of your belongings in the cart already.  And yes, as a matter of fact, this _is_ the horse we will be using in our travels."

            "Yeh couldn't eff picked somethin' a it mehr…_friendly?!"  Mouse looked lost somewhere between livid and scared witless._

            Brigit was growing visibly more annoyed by the second.  She yanked the reigns a little, and Goblin squealed almost as horribly a Mouse had.  "This is the animal that the smith gave us." She said through pursed lips.

            "Yeh cinna go back an' get another?!"

            "This one will do."

            Mouse looked at Goblin, then back it Brigit as if she was crazy.  "Oh, sure it will…If yeh want yer throat ripped out in the dead o' night!  I've met Orcs mer pleasant the look at than tha' fellow!"

            Brigit's mood was fast souring.

            "His beauty has nothing to do with how well he pulls this cart, Mouse.  And that is _all that matters."_

             Mouse looked ready to crumble on the spot.  He was paler than he had been in days.  

            "But…eh…Eh…Eh din particularly care fer herses."  He managed to get out finally.  He was whiter than Goblin's flanks at this point.

            The stern frown lines around Brigit's mouth softened a little, and she relaxed her hold on the reigns.

            "Are you…afraid of them?" she asked as gently as her gruff voice could manage.

            Mouse straightened quickly and tossed his head up defiantly.  "Ehm not afraid of them!" he snapped back indignantly, "Eh…Jes din like ehm very much."

            Shale smiled and stepped forward suddenly, before Brigit had a chance to spit something back.  

            "Well, that's very good then, Master Halfling.  Because this horse, Goblin-"

            "_Goblin?!_"

            "-Likes it when people are afraid of him.  But if you'll just be careful to keep away from anywhere his mouth and hooves are likely to be able to reach, I'm sure you'll be all right."  Shale gestured to the cart's front seat.  "Like here."

            Mouse looked back and forth between Shale and Goblin, undecided.  Then, with a small sigh, he seemed to calm down and headed towards the cart.  He walked around to the back of it and tossed his pack up over his head and managed to just get it over the edge and in.  The he leaned against one of the wheels, pulled on a lock of hair that was hanging into his face, and sighed again.  He shook his head and folded his arms across his chest.

            "I really dinna like herses." He said with his eyes closed.

            Goblin chose that moment to stamp one hoof angrily and toss his jug head up and down belligerently at some unseen aggressor. He bared yellow teeth and whinnied shilly.   Mouse yelped and dove backwards from the cart, choosing the backs of Shale's legs as a good hiding spot.

            Brigit sighed loudly and rolled her eyes.

            "This is going to be a _very_ long ride."

            At that moment, the healers at the doorway parted, and an older man with a stern, ageless look emerged.  He walked purposefully towards the three travelers, white robes billowing out at the heels.

            "Brother Bailey," he said loudly.  His clipped voice made the name sound like an order. 

            Shale straightened at the shoulders and turned slowly, taking much more time about the action than was necessary.  He took a couple steps away from the cart, towards the other man.  

            "Brother Squalle," Shale said.  He put his hands together and bowed respectfully to the other man.  The name sounded more like an attempt to placate the other man.  

            "I have heard some very disturbing news from one of the healers here."  His eyes flicked to the suit of armor Shale was wearing.  "Apparently, the informant was correct."  

            Shale sighed a little and straightened.  "Am I to assume that the news concerned me?" His voice sounded a bit strained.

            The older man looked very dour.  "Indeed it did, Brother Bailey."  He folded his arms over his chest.  

            "Should I ask what it was about?"  The politeness in the two men's voices was evaporating as fast as snow in the middle of July.  

            "Perhaps it would be best if I asked you," Brother Squalle snapped, "Because maybe then I could ask you what this madness is all about!"

            The thin layer of calm over the conversation broke.

            "Astrin-" Shale began, but the man cut him off.

            "What are you thinking, going out like this?  Have you lost you mind?!  You are in no condition to go _gallivanting_ all over the countryside in search of a few Raiders!  Have you any idea what kind of danger you're putting yourself in?!"

            "A very clear conception, thank you," Shale answered shortly.

            "Then you _must be out of your mind!"  Astrin's dark eyes narrowed.  "Or be motivated by some higher cause the rest of can't understand, right?"_

            Shale took a step back, looking stung.  "These people need help!" he said, gesturing to Brigit and Muse, who were standing by the cart, "If I were any other brother-" he began in a harsh whisper.

            "But you are _not_ any other brother, Shalyn!" Astrin snapped back, his voice lowered as well.  He ran a hand over the close cropped gray beard on his chin.  

            "Shale." Shale corrected instantly.  He moved towards Astrin, who backed up, shaking his head.

            "What could possibly have possessed you?!  You, one of the very few level-headed men we have left around here!"  His voice remained just about a whisper, and he leaned towards Shale, as if trying to keep their half shouted conversation private.  "Chasing after Raiders?!  A fool's quest!  And why you would possibly take it into your head to follow after a deranged woman and her only half recovered companion is completely beyond me!  Have you lost your mind?!"

            "My mind is well-kept, Brother Squalle.  If you just would give me a chance to _explain-"_

            "I cannot allow it!"  He glared daggers at the taller man.  "You came here just a few short months ago asking for shelter and training, and now you're trying to spit it back in our faces!"

            Shale's jaws tightened.  "I go out into the world to help others with my gifts, Astrin!  Can't you see-" 

            "Your _gifts, Brother Bailey, are only half trained as is!"  _

            "You said yourself I the power-" Shale started, indignation making his whispered voice rise sharply.

            "The power," Squalle snapped back, "But not the guidance!  You need time, and experience-"

            "Well, what better way to train myself than by actually using the skills I'm supposed to be trained _in_!?" Shale said, losing his temper.  His hands were balled into fists.  

            "And what better way to lose your life than by bringing it to the people who want to kill you!?  _Are you insane?!" Astrin roared back._

            Brigit dropped the heavy pieces of leather she had been using to tie down the blanket she had draped over their bags. She advanced on the two men quickly, her face set and her blue eyes blazing. The other healers who had gathered outside to watch the spectacle scrambled out of her path.  

            "Master Healer," she said, addressing Astrin with barely contained fury in her voice.  "Do you have a contract with the Brother Shale here?"

            "A what?" Squalle said, pulling his eyes away from Shale's face long enough to glance over at Brigit.  

            "A _contract," she repeated irritably, "Something Shale has signed saying he works for you and the rest of the Healer's Hall for a certain amount of time?"_

            "Of course not!" Astrin said with a contemptuous look at the human woman.

            "All healers here volunteer their services," Shale explained wearily.

            "Then there is nothing that says Shale must stay here against his wishes!"  Brigit snapped.  She glared back at Astrin.  "So if he wants to leave, Master Healer, you can't stop him."

            "I am his teacher, and head of the Hall here." Squalle snapped back.  "He should _listen to my advice."  An acidic glare in Shale's direction._

            "But you also told me long ago to listen to my instincts, Brother Squalle."  Shale said quietly, his eyes closed and his head drooping a little, the anger now gone from his voice.

            "Usually your instincts hold some ounce of sanity, Shale!"  Astrin's voice was cracking.

            "His sanity is not in question!" Brigit snarled, her temper flaring on behalf of Shale's.

            Astrin rounded on her.

            "I do not remember asking your opinion on the subject, Swords-lady!"

            "I did not ask permission to give it!"  She growled back, her rough voice sounding like two large boulders being ground together.

            "All righ', all righ'!  All of yeh!  Harvest Lady take it!" said a new voice from around their kneecaps.  They looked down.  Mouse was standing there, his hands thrown up in the air.  He sighed loudly.  "The threes ef yeh are bickerin' like lil' children, an' it isn't gettin' us anywhere!"  He dropped his hands to his sides.  "Isn't thare _any_ way the three ef yeh can reach an agreement?"

            "Unlikely," Brigit muttered, rolling her eyes.

            Mouse gave her a disdainful look that clearly said "you aren't helping."

            "Frem what Efve herd," he said carefully, "It sounds as if Shale here es free t'leave any time he wants, whether er not yeh approve ef the decision."

            "It's true," Shale said, trying desperately to keep the tense atmosphere from erupting again.  "But I would rather leave with your blessing, Brother," he looked over at Astrin hopefully.

            "You're not going to get it," Squalle said pointedly, and Shale sighed and his face fell a little.  

            There was a tense silence.  

            Everyone was so focused on the argument at hand that they didn't see the shadowy movement behind one corner of the building, or pay attention when Goblin whickered irritably as the weight in the cart increased.  

            Shale stared at Astrin for a couple more seconds, then sighed and shook his head.  "Fine," he said, breaking the silence and startling everyone present.  He shook his head a little, and rested a hand on the top of his mace. "Fine," he repeated resignedly, "It's all right.  You're probably right anyway Astrin.  I'll get myself killed out there."  He met Astrin's gaze steadily.  "I'm still going though." He said flatly, and turned towards the cart without looking back.  He hoisted himself easily up into the front seat, and grabbed the reigns.  

            Brigit stood there for half a second longer, watching Shale's somewhat bent back.  Then she sighed and headed back over to the cart.  She glanced into the cart, saw that all the things were in place under the blanket, and turned towards the horse.  

"I'll take those," Brigit mumbled, and clambered up into the seat next to the tall man.  

            Mouse glanced back at the dumbfounded Squalle once, who was mouthing words to himself and still watching Shale, then sighed and scampered over to the cart as well, careful to avoid Goblin's hooves.  The horse whinnied cantankerously at the added weight of the halfling.  

            They sat that way for a couple of seconds, Brigit fuming, Mouse looking trouble, Goblin looking ready to kill, and Shale sitting with his head in his hands.  Brigit was just about to snap the reigns and tell the animal to get going, when Shale felt a hand on his arm through his armor.  He looked down.

            "I want you checking in with the Healer's posts along the road," Astrin said irritably, "a report once every week, and two if you're late.  That's standard for journeying healers."   There was a pause, and the older man took his hand off Shale's arm and rubbed his chin with it.  He sighed and was silent for a couple of seconds, then glowered at the other man.  "And really, Shale.  Do _try_ not to get yourself killed out there, will you?" He snorted disapprovingly. 

            Shale grinned crookedly down at the other man, looking much happier than he had a couple minutes ago.  "I shall try, Brother," he said, amusement in his hazel eyes.  

            Mouse groaned and put a hand over his eyes.  Brigit turned to look over at him.  

            "What?" she asked.

            "All this mushy stuff es makin' meh sick t'my stomach." He muttered.

            Brigit raised an eyebrow.  "Mouse, how can you _possibly be thinking about food at a time like this?" _

                                                                                    * * * *

            The sun had reached the very peak of the sky by now, and had broken through the clouds sheathing it.  It shone down golden and bright on the Plains below, rivaling the yellow grasses in color.  The wind had picked up as well, and the scent of approaching rain and bad weather had evaporated, leaving the three itinerant companions with a perfect day for traveling on their hands.  

            The Plains were just as vast as when Mouse and Brigit had left them.  The grass seemed taller now though, since they had started riding through it.  It reached high up past the spokes of the cart wheels, brushing against Goblin's flanks and the legs of the humanoids.  They couldn't see the ground below them anymore, and occasionally they'd all start when Goblin would put his hoof too near a groundbird's nest, and the startled animal would take off into the air with a squawk.

            Brigit sighed and rested her head in her hands.  Goblin answered her with an unhappy grunt of his own.  Brigit's eyes flicked to the beast in front of her.  Well, they were probably complaining for different reasons.

            "…So it was a nehr scrape with the frost giants that time, Eh think.  Meh family an' Eh always had lots o' trouble with thare kind, y'know.  They're the reason weh mohved outta the Fangâret Mountains in the ferst place."  Mouse paused in his interminable ramble for a breather.

            Shale nodded and made a small noise to affirm the fact that he had been listening.  "I've heard that the frost giant populations in that area have expanded as of late, though I've never been there before." He said thoughtfully, leaning back a little in his seat.

            Mouse nodded.  "Oh aye.  Most people haven't, y'know.  The Fangârets aren't exactly a nice spot for visiting. Too cold n' dangerous, really."  

            "I've heard that as well."

            "Did Eh tell yeh about the ice elves weh've had up thare?"

            Another forty minute tangent was on its way.  Brigit wondered if she could effectively kill herself on her greatsword.

            "No, I don't believe you mentioned it," Shale said politely, watching Brigit out of the corner of his eye.  

            "Well, that's a long stery, but Eh could tell it to yeh ef yer interested."

            No, the blade was too long.  The short sword maybe?  Or perhaps Goblin wouldn't mind trampling her to death.

            He'd probably be grateful for the chance, actually.

            Stupid horse.

            Shale glanced over at Brigit again, a crooked smile beginning to form on his lips.  "Perhaps the shortened version?" 

            Brigit sent Shale a silent thanks.  She could only take so much talk.  Shale, she had noticed over the past hour or so of Mouse's incessant talk, was capable of listening politely to anyone, and anything.  A real politician's skill.  Brigit might have admired him for it, if she hadn't been bored out of her skull.

            Mouse nodded.  "Aye, well, ehts quite long anyway, but ef yer interested…" 

            Brigit started to tune Mouse out again, instead focusing on driving the horse in front of her and on the land around them.  It was much faster to travel this way, even on the back of a somewhat decrepit old horse.  Brigit looked at the hills that surrounded them and sighed a little.  Soon this place would change, she thought gloomily, soon there would be Raiders swarming it and _then_ it wouldn't be nearly so pretty.

            Again, Goblin put his hoof too close to a groundbird nest, and the frightened bird flew right up into the gelding's face.  Goblin balked, and the cart slammed into his rump.  The three humanoids were thrown forwards in their seats, and the baggage in the actual cart slammed into the sides of it.  There was a muffled groan from the cart.  

            Shale looked up when Brigit yanked the reigns again and pulled the embittered Goblin to a stop before he had even started moving.  The horse stamped a hoof in disapproval, and Shale sat up straighter in the seat.  

            "Brigit?" he asked.

            Mouse's brow furrowed.  "What es eht?" he asked, taken aback by their sudden stop.

            Brigit shushed both of them, and handed the reigns to Shale.  Her lips were pursed, and her hawk eyes were narrowed slightly.  She cocked her head a little to one side, and Shale realized she was listening hard.  He held the gelding steady.

            Brigit crouched over suddenly, and her hand went to her boot.  With a soft swishing sound, she withdrew the dagger sheathed there.  With a small flick of her wrist, Brigit tossed the weapon up into the air and caught it deftly in one hand.  She turned it sideways, the cruel blade facing outwards.  She put a finger to her lips again, telling the other two to keep quiet.  Shale nodded and watched her somewhat apprehensively, while Mouse turned to watch the hills around them.  What did she hear?  Raiders?

            Brigit leapt lightly from the cart, landing silently.  Her eyes narrowed, and she turned to face the place where their supplies were kept.  Her lips were pressed tightly together.  She walked over to the edge of the cart, and looked into it.  Her grip tightened on her dagger.  Then, with a final glance at the other two, she reached into the cart and pulled back the blanket with a mighty tug.

            Brigit's eyes widened, and her mouth fell open slightly.  Then anger flared up in her face, and she snorted.

            "_You!" she cried.  She fumbled with her words loudly, then let out a something akin to a roar.  She propped her foot up on the edge of the cart and sheathed her dagger with a snap.  Brigit reached into the cart with both hands and yanked.  There was a small yelp, and someone tall and blond emerged from the cart, pulled out by the shirt collar.  Brigit practically threw the girl out of the cart, heaving the taller woman right over the edge as if she weighed next to nothing.  The woman stumbled as she landed, but recovered her balance and straightened.  _

            Shale blinked.  "Sheeva?"  He said doubtfully.

            Mouse looked confused.  "Who's she?  An' what es she doing hidin' out in the back o' the car'?" 

            Brigit glared at the other woman, and the fury in her eyes could have melted rock.

            "That is _exactly what I would like to know," she snarled._

            Sheeva rolled her shoulders a little, and looked around at the other three travelers.  Brigit looked furious.  Shale and Mouse looked confused.  Sheeva raised her chin defiantly.

            "I came here to help you," she said.

            There was a short, heavy silence.  Now the other three just looked shocked.  The golden grasses blew wildly around them.  Goblin whickered and pricked his ears forward at the hills.  Brigit was the first to recover.  

            "Absolutely not," she said flatly.  

            "But-"  Sheeva started.

            "_No."  Brigit said flatly._

            Sheeva reached into the cart and withdrew a long spear, which was almost as tall as she.  "But I can fight!" she said.

            Brigit scoffed. 

            "What in all the Hells is going on here?" Mouse exclaimed, looking totally lost.  "Who _es this?" he asked Brigit, pointing to Sheeva._

            "She's a friend of mine.  I know her parents well." Shale said.

            "I met her when you were recovering." Brigit added.

            "And you told me about your mission and I want to help you on it!" Sheeva cut in, gesturing with the hand that wasn't holding the spear.

            "Sheeva, do your parents know you're here?" Shale asked quietly.

            The half-elf lost some of her certainty.  Her emerald eyes flickered.  "No," she said finally, "I…Did not tell them."

            "They're probably worried sick about you by now." Shale said, turning farther around in his seat.  He sighed.

            Sheeva tossed her head again.  "It was my decision to make, Shale.  If I had told my parents, they would have agreed."

            "Then why didn't you?" Brigit snapped.

            Sheeva turned back to the other woman.  "There was not time!"  She sighed a little, then looked at Mouse.  "I did not realize your halfling friend would recover as fast as he did.  I barely made it over here in time."

            "_Bur-ra-" Brigit started, then snapped her jaws shut.  Her hands balled into fists at her sides, and she advanced on Sheeva.  The taller girl did not flinch or step back, but met Brigit's eyes levelly.  For a second though, her gaze flickered over the black scar on the woman's tanned face, but she held her ground.  Brigit growled a little.  "Then why did you hide in the cart, if you thought you were within your __rights to be here?"  A muscle in her cheek twitched, and she looked ready to pounce on Sheeva and throttle her._

            Sheeva stood up to her full height.  "I knew my parents would let me come, should I ask them, but I was quite positive _you_ would not."

            "Maybe fer good reason," Mouse spoke up suddenly.  Sheeva started and drew her eyes away from Brigit to stare at the halfling.  Mouse shrugged a little.  "Brigit's payin' me the be out here, y'know." He shook his head.  "Nobody in their right mind would wanna come out here t'chase Raiders an' the sort fer any other reason."  He glanced up at Shale.  "No offense," he added hastily.

            "None taken," Shale responded quickly.  "Sheeva…This is dangerous.  You could get killed."

            "But so could you!" Sheeva turned to him, "Shale," she said imploringly, "You know the dangers as well as I, and still you came!"

            "But Sheeva, I'm…It's different."

            "It's very different," Brigit snapped.  "He asked to come and I said yes.  I offered Mouse a job and _he_ said yes.  You, girl, are nothing more than a stow-away."  She muttered something under her breath.  Goblin tossed his head and whinnied loudly.  He pricked his ears towards the fields again, and pawed nervously at the ground in front of him.  He whickered again.

            "Brigit-" Sheeva started again.

            "No," she cut her off.  "No.  You _can't_ stay here and you _can't_ help!  Now, all of us are going to get in the cart and I'm going to drive us all back- AHH!!!"

            Brigit stumbled suddenly, clutching at her leg.  The others turned to look, and Sheeva cried out.  The black shaft of an arrow was sticking out of Brigit's thigh, and blood was beginning to dribble out of the wound.  Brigit snarled a curse, then reached down and grasped the shaft in her fist and yanked.  She cried out at the pain, but the arrow came loose and she dropped it to the ground.  She looked at the arrowhead quickly.

            "Raiders!" she screamed to the others.  "Everyone!  Get down!" 

            Shale and Mouse both leapt into the back of the cart without needing to be told twice.  Just as they did, three arrows whizzed through the air and embedded themselves in the spot where they had been sitting.  Brigit stood stock still for half a second, then grabbed Sheeva's hand and dragged her down onto the ground too.  They huddled there, while the crudely made black arrows flew by overhead and stuck into the sides of the cart.  One zipped past Goblin's left flank, and the ugly white horse screamed a challenge and reared up into the air.  He struck with his fore hooves only twice before he came crashing to the ground, two arrows stuck deeply into his neck.  Brigit cursed, and looked around, trying to figure out where her attackers were coming from.  The arrows stopped flying for a second.  

The top of Mouse's scruffy black head appeared over the edge of the cart.  

            "Brigit!" he hissed down to her, "Are yeh all right?"

            She growled something under her breath, and rubbed her injured leg.  She was beginning to lose feeling in it.  "I'll be fine, as long as they keep missing with those volleys."

            Mouse's dark eyes flicked to Sheeva.  "And yeh, half-elf?  Yeh're all right too?"

            She looked up and nodded.  "Fine.  What should we do?"

            Another volley of arrows hailed down on them, and Mouse ducked back into the cart just in time.  He yelped when an arrow stuck in the wood where his face had been seconds ago.  "Sun Lord!" he exclaimed.  Shale made a somewhat disgruntled noise. "Sorry," Mouse apologized quickly.  He peeked over the rim again.  "Brigit?"

            "Still alive, halfling," she called back, and smirked a little. "Their aim is getting worse."

            Mouse glanced down at the arrow in the side of the cart, and then at the dead horse.  "Not by my mark!" he said with a flash of a grin.

            Brigit grimaced at the terrible pun, then pulled herself and Sheeva closer to the cart.  That seemed to wake the poor girl up a little.  She turned to look at Brigit head on.  "Where are they?  Where are those shots coming from?"

            Brigit shook her head.  "I don't know.  Can't tell from this distance."

            Sheeva nodded.  "But they have to stand up to fire down on us.  If we look on the next volley, maybe we can see them."

            Brigit grunted her approval of the idea, and slammed a fist on the side of the cart to get the two men's attentions.  "Mouse!" she hissed up.

            A dark haired head appeared over the side again.

            "Aye, human?"

            "Can you see them from up there?"

            "Neh, an' Ehve been lookin' too.  I cinna find them anywhere."

            "Turn towards me, Mouse," Shale said suddenly.  "I think I see movement over there."

            There were some scuffling sounds from inside the cart.

            "Ooof!" Shale gasped.

            "Sorry," Mouse apologized, "Was that yer stomach?"

            Shale laughed a little.  "A little lower with that dagger of yours, Mouse, and I'd be sterile as Goblin."

            "And if we don't find those Raiders soon, we'll be as _dead_ as him too."  Brigit snapped up at the two.

            "There!" Shale cried, and another volley of arrows came down upon them.  They were closer to their marks this time, and Sheeva scrambled backwards into Brigit as one arrow entrenched itself into the spot her foot had been moments ago.  

            "Gods!" she whispered.

            Brigit smirked and put and arm around her shoulders, pulling her back under the cart.  "Not so keen on helping _now, are you?"_

            "Did you see them, Mouse?" Shale whispered.

            "Aye!" he called, and Brigit heard the familiar click of his crossbow being loaded.  "Now ehts all aboot timing." He snorted a little.  "I haveta hit them 'afore they hit me."

            "Can you do that?" Shale asked him doubtfully. 

            "Hopefully," he said, and there were more scuffling sounds inside the cart.  "Besides," he said casually, and Brigit could almost _feel _the halfling's grin, "Ehm a lot harder t'hit then they're, if yeh know what Eh mean."

            Another volley, only this time the arrows missed them by several feet.  Brigit wondered grimly how long the Raiders could keep missing. 

            There was a twanging sound, and then a whoosh.

            "Yes!" Mouse whooped, "Eh got one!"

            "Get down!" Shale barked, and grabbed the back of the halfling's cloak and pulled him back into the cart with a thump.  Mouse's exclamation of pain and assorted curses were drowned out by the whoosh of a second volley, and the thunk a couple arrows made as they hit the cart. 

            "We cannot keep picking them off like that!" Sheeva called up.  "We need to get closer to them!"

            Brigit snorted.  "And how, exactly, do you suggest we do _that_?!"  

            Apparently, though, there was no need to come up with a plan, because, with a couple of fierce war cries, the whole group of Raiders straightened, and charged down upon them.  

            Mouse cursed again and stood up straight in the cart.  He closed on eye and brought his crossbow up to bear.  Twang.  Thump.  A Raider disappeared beneath the grasses. 

            "Get ready!" Brigit roared, and heaved herself to her feet, ignoring the pain that shot up her leg.  She crouched and drew her massive sword.  Beside her, Sheeva rose to her feet.

            "Get in the cart, half-elf!"

            "No!  I can fight!"

            Brigit sneered, then turned back to the charging horde.  "Get ready then," she growled.  A crossbow bolt flew past her ear and her eyes widened in surprise.  Ahead of them, another Raider dropped.

            Brigit was getting her money's worth in the halfling.

            There were at least ten of the Raiders.  A full party.  There had probably been more, but Brigit didn't have time to do the numbers in her head.  The Raiders were on them suddenly, and she just had time to bring her sword up to bear as they crashed down upon the four companions like a hideous wave breaking on a cliff of rocks.  Mouse's crossbow twanged again, and one of the Raiders towards the back dropped with a crossbow bolt sticking out of his throat.  Brigit slashed out with her sword, and caught one Raider in his unprotected side.  Two more advanced on her, and she backed up into the cart so that they couldn't flank her.  Another two came on.  Brigit's lips pursed.  Bad odds now.  

            There was a swift movement to her left, and a bright flash of metal.  Shale appeared out of nowhere, and swung his mace with such strength and grace that, for a second, Brigit stood still and watched, awed.  The blow sent one Raider crashing to the ground, jaw smashed and dislocated.  Two other Raiders turned away from Brigit and towards this new threat.  Shale swung his mace outwards again, not trying to hit anyone in particular, but clearing some room to maneuver in.  An extremely large Raider with black hair and far too many scars came up behind Shale, and brought his axe down on him.  Shale ducked swiftly, bringing his right arm up and blocking the blow with the buckler strapped to his arm.  He swung his mace again, clearing more room.  He clipped the other Raider on the right leg, and the half-orc howled in pain and retreated.  Shale turned, backing up towards Brigit and the cart, getting out of his flanked position.  He caught her staring out of the corner of his eye, and grinned haphazardly. 

            "I…" He blocked a blow with his mace, "Did tell you before, miss…"

            Brigit swung her sword and cleaved through the scarred Raider who had come towards them again.

            "I know," she interrupted him, blocking an incoming axe with the blade of her sword, "Not a sheltered priest."

            They exchanged a quick pair of smiles before turning back to the threat at hand.

            With Shale's help, Brigit found it surprisingly easy to hold back the incoming Raiders.  They gained no ground fighting with their backs to the cart and their sides pressed together, but they didn't lose any either.  To an outsider, that might have been considered a draw, but to the two humans, whose only goal was to stay alive here, they were doing a fine job.  

            Brigit and Shale both looked up in surprise when they heard Mouse cry out in rage and fear.  

            "Gerroff me, yeh stinkin' Orc!  Get yer filthy hand offa meh!"  the halfling cried out.  The half orc Raider Shale had clipped earlier with his mace had picked Mouse up in one giant paw and was carrying him off.  Mouse struggled, but couldn't wriggle out of the man's grasp.  In a last desperate attempt to escape, the halfling drew his dagger out of its sheath and stabbed the Raider viciously in the forearm.  The orc howled in pain, and smacked Mouse on the side of his head with his free hand.  Mouse groaned and slumped over in the man's hand, unconscious.

            "Mouse!" Brigit cried, and broke from the side of the cart and ran towards him.             

            "Brigit!  Don't!" Shale cried.  But it was too late.

            A Raider sprang at Brigit on her right, and swung at her with a double headed axe large enough to cleave a man cleanly in two.  And that, obviously, was the Raider's intention.  He swung at Brigit's exposed middle, but the woman turned her blade just in time, blocking the blow with her sword.  Unfortunately though, she hadn't had time to maneuver completely out of harm's way, and the flat of the Raider's blade slammed hard into the woman's leg.  Her injured leg.  With a gasp of pain, Brigit dropped her sword and toppled over onto her back.

            "Brigit!" Shale cried, and tried to run towards her, but the ranks of Raiders closed in around him, blocking all paths to her.  "Brigit!" he screamed again.

            She lay on the ground, trying desperately to catch her breath and ignore the blinding pain in her leg.  Spots of light danced before her eyes, and when her vision finally cleared, she saw the Raider who had knocked her down looming over her, grinning maliciously.  He brought his axe up over his head.

            "Radjgast will be pleased." He told her, and brought the axe down.

            There was a bright flash of green light from behind Brigit's head, and a sharp blast that sounded like a whistle being blown.  Something that looked like an arrow lit up with acid green flames went whizzing over Brigit's head, like a strange shooting star taken from the night sky.  It hit the Raider full in the chest, and he went flying backwards ten feet, landing in a crumpled pile.  The strange ball of energy had made a sizeable crater in his chest.

            Brigit groaned and rolled over onto her stomach, then turned a little and looked behind her to see who had thrown that…that thing.

            Sheeva was standing there, spear in her off hand and her right raised above her head, her perfect lips mouthing words that Brigit couldn't understand or hear.  The hand above her head was glowing a bright acid green, and tiny sparks of light were sparking off her palm.  She was staring up at her glowing hand, but turned and looked down at Brigit.  Sheeva had changed.  Her hair had lifted around her head, floating as if caught in some type of wind, and her eyes were glowing with that same, bright green light that her hand was.  Her face had contorted as well- she was still pretty, but something about her had shifted, as if the lid had been pulled off something dark and ugly and powerful.    

            "What…?" Brigit started, and stopped herself.  Her lips pursed again, and she stumbled awkwardly to her feet, grabbing her sword as she rose.  

            The fighting had stopped momentarily when Sheeva had cast her magic, and now the surviving Raiders looked less sure of themselves.  

            "_Grush_!" the half orc holding Mouse roared.  "Let's go!"

            He started running, and the others followed quickly.  

            "Mouse!" Brigit cried again, and started to follow, but the Raiders had ducked down beneath the tall grasses of the Plains and were gone.

            Brigit looked around helplessly.  "Mouse!" she called again, "Mouse!"

            There was no answer.

            Shale walked quietly up behind Brigit and put a hand on her shoulder.  She shrugged him off and continued to look wildly around.

            "Brigit," Shale said quietly, and she turned to look at him.  He shook his head and sighed.  "Hold for half a mark, will you?"  He walked over to her again.  "Are you all right?"

            Brigit sighed, and slumped a little.  "I'm fine."

            Shale's brow furrowed.  "The last I saw of you before, that Raider was about to chop you in half."

            Brigit smiled grimly.  "He didn't get the chance.  Sheeva…Did something to him."

            At the sound of her name, the half elf looked up.  She smiled a little.  With the extinguishing of the green light, the lid to the container had been put back on, and Sheeva had returned to her normal self.  She smiled a little.  

            "_Magic Missile," she told them.  "That was the spell I used."  She looked down at her right hand.  "I have never used it before.  Worked rather well, did it not?"_

            Brigit looked stonier than ever, and her blue eyes darkened.  Shale glanced at her, then back to Sheeva.

            "Are you all right too?" he asked her, looking concerned.  Brigit wondered if the man had seen what had happened to Sheeva's face when she had cast her spell.

            "I am fine," she said.  "But the halfling…Mouse…He has been taken.  What should we do?"

            Shale sheathed his mace.  "Go get him, of course."

            Brigit snorted, getting the other two's attention again.  "But first," she snapped suddenly, "We're going to take _you_ back to Farley." She jerked her chin in Sheeva's direction.

            "What?!"  Sheeva exclaimed, "Why?!"

            "Because this isn't a game, little girl!  Because you can't play!  It's dangerous, and you're going to get hurt!"

            Sheeva looked furious.  "I know that!" she snapped, "I just watched _you almost get yourself killed!"_

            Brigit snarled.  "Watch your tongue, girl, or I'll cut it out."

            "If I had not been there," Sheeva said, emerald eyes flashing dangerously, "_You_ would be dead."

            Brigit made a feral noise in her throat, and took a menacing step towards the other woman.

            At that point, it would have been impossible to tell who was angrier.  Brigit looked ready to draw her sword on the half-elf, and Sheeva seemed to be considering using the spear in her hand.  They were glaring daggers at each other, and Brigit seemed to have grown a couple inches, because the two were definitely at eye level.  Or maybe Sheeva had shrunk.  Either way, the two were equal.

            Shale stepped forward suddenly, and put a hand on each of there shoulders, half to steady them, and half to keep them from getting too close.

            "Please," he said loudly, "This isn't getting us anywhere."  He looked from one woman to the other.  "Can we please find a solution?  Mouse is _still_ in danger."  Brigit looked over at Shale when he mentioned the halfling's name.  "And bickering isn't getting us anywhere."  Sheeva looked over at him too.

            Shale sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.  He backed off a little, feeling as if he had averted some sort of major disaster.  The wind blew, making the grass around their legs wave wildly.  "Now," Shale said calmly.  "What is to be done?  The Raiders cannot be that far off, but…I don't know how we can find them."

            "That's easy," Brigit said, surprising both the man and the half-elf, "I can track them.  Besides, I know where they're going to take him anyway."  She looked out at the hills around them.  "We can reach the ruins in a day's travel."  She looked down at the cart and fallen horse.  "Faster, if we still had that damned animal." 

            "So we know how to find them," Shale said reasonably.  "That's one problem solved." He looked apprehensively at Sheeva.  "Now…we just have this matter left."

            Brigit rounded on the girl again.  "I still say we take her back."  Her hawk eyes narrowed.  "I don't know what she thinks she's doing out here, but I'm not in the mood to humor her."

            "But if we turn around now, we will give the Raiders a substantial head start," Sheeva said.

            "True," Shale said, and Brigit glared at him.  "Brigit," he said wearily, "I'm not taking sides.  Yet.  But I agree that if we turn around now, it's likely that we leave Mouse in more danger than he can handle by himself.  And we still don't know why they took him, instead of just killing him."

            "Precisely," Sheeva said.  "It makes no sense to put someone else's life in danger-"

            "And just what do you think I would be doing if I took you along as well, half-elf?!" Brigit snapped, her fists clenching.  

            "I think I proved back there that I am _quite_ capable of taking care of myself," Sheeva said coolly, then smirked.  "Besides…You might need me to watch your back."  She folded her arms over her chest, and her smirk widened.

            Brigit fumbled with her words loudly, then took another step towards Sheeva.  "If you were anyone else, half-elf," she said, her voice dangerously low in her throat, "I would _kill you_ where you stand."

            For a second, Sheeva seemed to lose her calm, but she regained it quickly and threw back her shoulders a little.

            Shale stepped forward again, and coughed into his hand.  "Then what is to be done?  I say we go and rescue Mouse, without any further delay."

            "I second that," Sheeva said.

            "Your vote doesn't count here," Brigit snarled.

            "Then what, Brigit, do you say?" Shale asked quietly.  He folded his arms over his armored chest.  

            Brigit looked straight into Sheeva's face, studying her.  She didn't say anything.

            The wind blew again, whistling through the grasses, but none of the humans were moved by it.  They all stood stock still, waiting, it seemed, for Brigit's reaction.

            "You owe me your life," Sheeva said finally, breaking the silence, and there was a hint of pleading in her voice.  "Surely that counts for something to you."

            "I would be saving your life by taking you home." Brigit answered her steadily, "And my debts would be repaid."

            "Do you really believe that?" Sheeva asked her in a small voice.

            Silence.

            Sheeva's eyes flicked to Shale, and the man shook his head.  "I'm sorry, Sheeva, but my vote must go with Brigit's.  I'm lost in this wilderness out here."  He sighed.  "I go where she leads."

            Sheeva looked back at Brigit, who was still studying the half-elf's face.  There was another heavy silence.

            "Brigit?" The woman asked finally.

            There was a tense pause, and then Brigit drew her eyes away from Sheeva, and looked out at the hills surrounding them.

            "If we leave now…" She started, and Sheeva's hopes sank visibly.  Brigit glanced at her out of the corner of her eye, but her face was unreadable.  "…We may be able to reach that cliff crest by nightfall."  She pointed to a high ridge that rose sharply out of the rolling hills ahead of them. "From there," she added tersely, "The ruins are a quarter day's travel."

            Sheeva's eyes lit up with excitement, and even Shale smiled a little, though he hid it from Brigit.  

            The woman groaned.  "C'mon," she said, and sheathed her sword, "While the tracks are fresh."

            She turned to go, but let out a cry of pain and sank to her knees.  She looked down at her injured leg and inspected it.  The wound, already serious, had been made worse by all the movement in battle, and then by the hit it had received afterwards.  Apparently, that had been all the damage it could take.  Brigit groaned, and tried to rise to her feet, but her leg crumpled under her again, and she sank back to her knees.

            Shale and Sheeva ran over to her and sat down on the ground beside her.  "What is it?" the half-elf asked her quickly, looking truly concerned.  

            Brigit grimaced.  "My leg.  The arrow…"

            Sheeva hissed under her breath.  "I forgot!" she cried.

            Brigit smiled grimly.  "I didn't."  Then she grimaced in pain as she stretched out the leg.  She looked down at the wound again.  "There's no way I can travel on this," she said heavily.  "Wounds like this take months to recover from."

            "No…" Sheeva whispered.  "But Mouse-" 

            "Might not have the rescue we were planning on." Brigit finished for her.

            Sheeva slumped a little.

            Shale sighed suddenly, and shook his head.  He began to take off his gauntlet.  Brigit's brow furrowed.  "What are you doing?" she asked him.

            "Saving us a couple of months," he said grimly.  He removed the gauntlet and put his hand to the wound.  

            A strange, soothing scent filled the air, like incense and lavender being burned.  Shale's hand glowed gold, and Brigit's eyes widened.  The glow spread from his palm to his fingertips, glowing more intensely every second they touched the wound.  Shale's eyes glazed over a little, and he pressed his lips together in concentration.  The gold light spread from his hand to Brigit's wound, and the strange, relaxing scent grew stronger.  Brigit's eyelids fluttered for a second, and when she opened them again, the wound had healed and Shale was putting his gauntlet back on. 

            There was another long silence that only the wind dared interrupt.

            "Shale…" Sheeva breathed, "You never told me…"

            "I never told anyone," he said curtly, "Except the healers at the Hall."

            The tall man stood quickly, and offered his newly gloved hand to Brigit again.  "You can stand," he told her, his voice clipped.

            She took his hand and stood awkwardly, and found that she could, in fact, stand.  She looked up at Shale, and her face was troubled.  "Shale…" she said.

            He looked down at her, and his own face was as set and troubled as hers.  Their eyes met, and neither of them smiled.

            Sheeva coughed loudly, breaking the silence with an ice pick.

            The two humans started, and then Brigit grunted and rolled her shoulders.  She turned to face the ridge again.

            "C'mon," she repeated, though she sounded much more resigned this time, "While the tracks are fresh."

            And the three set off at a fast run, disappearing into the grasses the same way the Raiders had.  


End file.
